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Savta, grandma,
could it be our transparent skin,
skin that doesn’t protect the flesh,
not in the least.
This story of ours
has details that are better left untold,
it’s good to leave blots of…
…I remember a woman
who sat on the pot where the apples cooked in the cold
basement, her face black from smoke. And here, near this brick
building with a red tile roof, is one of our family, Mausha
V…