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Authors

Lauren Leslie

Abstract

Believe grass-blades shine every time you see them as when
you saw them first, before your memories began
to record. Believe in the half-tree hidden behind
the hill’s crest, slender trunk and lean branches’ spread peeling
in mothwing membrane. Believe in needles that stitched
your shoes, in page-trimmers, fork molds, the garneted
holes inside schist. Believe in the nails that hold your walls.

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