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Suzanne Paola

Summer 1990

For Lily

By Suzanne Paola

Every hot, waspdriven, sad summer night, I think of the dog we called Lily, who appeared one day, torn, half-starved, at our back door. Mange-withered and flea-sucked, she turned to […]

Summer 1990

The World Rising as a Mirror

By Suzanne Paola

(sunrise through the window, October, 1988) Bloodorange and tear-clarity.             Tell me where it ends, cirrus-touched             body starting out of sleep skin littered with what has died and what will die- […]