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...
from the doorway like a letter steamed half-
open, electric oven she poked with tongs
as if it were a fire, as if the Tater Tots
might at ... lost baby, never named --
stay buried. It's not their overshoes
lost in the grass behind the smokehouse.
Not their faces alive in anyone's
memory. But my mother waits
in the pecan tree's ...
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