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Nina Bogin

Summer 1986

Wild Plums in August

By Nina Bogin

As long shadowsslip into the valley,we grow thirsty.Sun sits on our shoulderslike a hawkwhose eyes seizethe stark shift of season.In the darkof pines, it could benight.Your handon my neck drinksthe […]

Summer 1986

Through Marshland

By Nina Bogin

In this field are beginnings, green heartsthat bear violets, shadow-loving sorrel. Their green is sleek with the memory of ice;even now they are separate as flowers. I too am a […]

Summer 1986

Initiation

By Nina Bogin

I At that time, a bottle of dark winewas a life, or the hopeof a single evening—I thought it would be like that.There were details, onions in a bowl,quarters of […]