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Patricia Traxler

Winter 1994

Confession

By Patricia Traxler

“He never really hit me, and anyway it was so long ago. Yes, there were some other things, but never was there hitting. Sometimes he’d twist my arm hard behind […]

Winter 1994

The Visit

By Patricia Traxler

i. Today in my garden I find you certain flowers: a one-day orchid, an unbloomed rose, waterlily and a spiny weed bloomed blue, mock orange–tantalizing stillbirth–then the stir of red […]