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  • Sarah Van Arsdale

April 16, 2022

Prompt: from yesterday, write about something you’re disinterested in.

She peppers me with questions,

salts me down like a thick-cut

steak. Assaulted by the past,

I relent, tell her what I remember,

what I think I know.

Who can be sure, it was all so long ago?

I’ve tried slipping other topics in,

tried asking her, what’s new?

but always she returns to that old track

the stories stretching so far back

it’s dizzying, the scissoring.

She snips like making paper snowflakes

as if we could make something real appear

from nothing more than light and air.

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