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Why did I never see it for what it was:

abundance? Two families, two different

kitchen tables, two sets of rules, two

creeks, two highways, two stepparents

with their fish tanks or eight-tracks or

cigarette smoke or expertise in recipes or

reading skills. I cannot reverse it, the record

scratched and stopping to that original

chaotic track. But let me say, I was taken

back and forth on Sundays and it was not easy

but I was loved each place. And so I have

two brains now. Two entirely different brains.

The one that always misses where I’m not,

and the one that is so relieved to finally be home.

Joint Custody

Ada Limón

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Poem of the Week

Mira Rosenthal

Metamorphoses

translated from the Polish written by
Tomasz Różycki