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I’m singing through
I’m crying through
The auto-tune is strong.
Hair rollers set under what oven doors pack,
strands of coiled bounty bound to heat.
Myself when I am real leads
with the highest concentrated artery
in the body.
A new short story by Carmen Petaccio.
What should accountability look like, post-Capitol siege?
Who were the “comfort women”? Who is the “Asian woman” today?