She asked if I could talk about my past, so I replied,

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Rob Wright

She asked if I could talk about my past, so I replied,

 

      Where I grew up the mines were working still.
      And trucks roared down the narrow roads and heaved
      cinders into ditches, ferns, and weeds.
      The mines were then big craters where the . . .
      . . . . . . .

      Able Muse Write Prize for Poetry, 2017 ▪ Finalist

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