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Picture-book affair

She asked if she could flip the pages.  
Of course I told her but how will you
know when to turn?  My mom says
this story a lot and I remember the
pictures.  Ok then we’ll try it I said
but don’t try to flip and look ahead
because I won’t be able to read.  Wait
stop here which one is your favorite?  
I like the tiny one peeking out of the
pouch.  Ah that makes sense because
you’re the tiny one in the family too.  
Yeah she said I like the tiny ones and
I like the weird ones too.  That night I
read to her mother at once wondering
how she imagined my voice met the
colored creatury with all this speaking
I could not see the cartoons but felt
her tense her toes and begin to turn as
I lost my anapestic breath enjambed
in the neck of the Mazurka-bird some
kind of canary from the now-racist
depiction of the African isle Yw’arí.

7 Dec 09

(define the words in this poem)
(7 more poems by this author)

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