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Christina Wos' Donnelly
 
 COVETING THE ENDS OF BREAD
 
 The heel, the curve
 that called to the palm
 of the hand,
 the delicacy denied me
 as a child.
 My mother’s charm against
 the next invader:
 her cache of hard, dried crusts
 a feeble defense against
 mobilizing armies
 and Khrushchev’s shoe
 drumming the march.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
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