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ISSUE:  Fall 2018

Photo by Rachel Eliza Griffiths  

There is no title. There is no title. The body is content. The body is window.
The body is container, curtain, chair, grid. Do you see? Bones & shoulders, a spine 
guiding the breath I can’t force to change what is real or unreal. Is it mine? Only air 

surrounding form—

a curated perception that troubles. My mother’s death flattening against the wall. I can’t 
see my own face now—

the photograph ever now—
ever the repetition of memory—

I can’t see my own face 
as I hold myself.  



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