The 2River View | 26.1 (Fall 2021) |
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Marisa P. Clark Whole Cloth I believed love was a long, bright thread, Wolf Moon When my mother called, I was eating at a humble restaurant. I silenced to end my fickle appetite. At home, still alive. I packed black: cashmere sweater, my mother’s call. Made reservations he died. I went to work, met my students then drove south as the moon rose, full so much as my father’s bald head Marisa P. Clark is a queer writer with prose and poetry appearing or forthcoming in Cream City Review, Nimrod, Rust + Moth, Shenandoah, Texas Review, and elsewhere. A fiction reader for New England Review, she lives in New Mexico.
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