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May 2018
When God sowed darkness and the Devil a *****,
Abuela dug so deep
her oldest son fell through.

I dangled my constellations like ghosts that might
carry him to the surface,
a grip hard as ice,
a grip twice as thin.

Inertia yanked ten in two --
five fingers, pop;
ten fingers, stop --
he took them all down, the
tendons’ endless unfurling.
I, ladder, endlessly descending.
He, father, ends up standing.
Written by
Ev  23/USA
       ---, Eryck, Fawn and Rohan P
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