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Sequence Jennifer Lewis
A dozen fruit soak crimson skins in pools of fading light. I hesitate, then bite: a burst of sweetness ripe, a farmer’s satisfaction. This apple bears a faceless name. It jars the brain to think of where it grew, from whom it came, and what it knew. Before the crop, before the hoard, before the feast and the revelry, came chores; to till the hardened fields, troll for oily mackerel. Hunt and gut the boar. And save the apple core. |
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by The University of Scranton, Scranton, PA 18510
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last updated: Sunday, 10 August 2008
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