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Judge One’s Soul By The Demons It Keeps, Judge One’s Bed By The Number It Sleeps, Matt Hansel
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Mantle (excerpt)
The dead do what they want which is nothing—
-- Kevin Young
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On the Shore of Lake Atitlán, Apparently I Ruined Breakfast
On the edge of another blue world the lake looms like salvation. Over coffee, my mom and tía speak excitedly
about the vibrant villages along the shore, how you can only get there by boat across the lake’s beautiful depths, how
the volcanos stand piously over the water, how each village is named for one of the twelve apostles. I ask, with complete sincerity,
if that means one is named for Judas. The waitress brings our food. My mom and tía eat slowly with side-eyes and silence.
-- Ariel Francisco
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