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POSTSCRIPT

by Debra Pennington


Hear Debra Pennington read this poem (in RealAudio):

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As if hung by its hasp and dropped,
my mother's old letter chest lay
smashed, my father's ardent hand strewn
through neighbors' yards; for years I've grasped
after those bits of flapping snow.







Copyright © 1996 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; May 1996; Postscript; Volume 277, No. 5; page 103.

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