The old neighborhood is burning down

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Where I Came From

Mark Melnicove


The old neighborhood is burning down, the lawns awash
———in oranges and reds.
I have come running

back to save our house. My mother is lounging in
———-the kitchen, filing her nails.
“Relax,” she tells me,

“The fire chief called, says this is the new normal.” I cannot
———-believe she is not hysterical.
I shake her,

Read rest of poem at Agni

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