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Friday, March 19, 2010


My sister is giving birth one thousand miles away. I lie awake, my oven on the self-cleaning cycle, cramps and sleeplessness and too much thought, while her oven has baked its bun brown and ready to pull out with burning hands. She lies awake feeling her insides glow orange and the bread rising, steaming. I bend to one side, hope to melt the cramp, and send my energy to her side. I charge toward sleep, for in dreams they will reach me: the faroff cries of new life.

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