INSIDE the Russian woman there’s
a carved doll,
red and yellow to match her,
with its own child inside.
The smallest, light as a saltshaker,
holds nothing
but a finger’s breadth of emptiness.
The Family
INSIDE the Russian woman there’s
a carved doll,
red and yellow to match her,
with its own child inside.
The smallest, light as a saltshaker,
holds nothing
but a finger’s breadth of emptiness.
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