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Erika Woloschuk's Before is part of our celebration for National Poetry Month. 



I remember

White frilled stockings,

Expired soups in the pantry,

Powdered donuts in the Church basement.

I remember

That car with the crank windows,

The two flights of stairs up to the apartment,

The clothesline swaying in the wind.

I remember

Reciting The Our Father,

The Hail Mary,

The praise I received after finally getting it right.

I know

I haven’t visited in some time.

The world has a strange way of keeping people apart.

I know

You don’t remember who I am,

But sometimes I still have to try.

When I look into your eyes,

I see

The dust gathering in the playroom,

The stained glass lamp hanging above the table,

The half finished coloring books left wide open.

Clothes Line
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