by Maxine Kumin I eat thesewild red raspberriesstill warm from the sunand smelling faintly of jewelweedin memory of my father tucking the napkinunder his chin and bendingover an ironstone bowlof the bright drupeletsawash in cream my fatherwith the sigh of a manwho has seen all and been redeemedsaid time after timeas he lifted his spoon …
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