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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 2, June 2016

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Paresh Tiwari
Maharashtra, India


Fossils

Somewhere along the way, I decide to put roots in the garden of my house. I spread my arms like branches and dig my heels in the soft, loose soil. I even ask my son to water me from time to time.

A month, a year, a decade passes by. A songbird builds its nest in my hair, a squirrel scuttles over my limbs and a woodpecker keeps knocking at the cage of my heart. Even my beard has begun to touch the earth trying to find foothold.

Over the years, I watch my wife wither away, my son marry and his wife bear a daughter. I feel myself flow in her veins when she climbs over my shoulders and tucks a red crayon behind my ear. When she plucks a purple fruit from my fingers and stains her summer shirt, I tickle her with my leaves. I kiss her curls, when she, bathed in the winter sun, leans on my chest and closes her eyes.

dandelions . . .
holding my breath
for an eternity

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