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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 11, Number 4, December 2017
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Barbara Ungar
Saratoga Springs, New York, USA


The Day After Sandy Hook

I let him stay home from school with a tummy ache, to lie on the couch and be doted on. My tummy ached, too. I turned the newspaper over quickly, the twenty school photos face-down, but he turned it back up, looked, and said, Mom, I know.

While I cried over the paper, he zapped monsters on his phone in next room. That night, whimpering and tossing in his sleep, he cried out, Mom! Where are you—I can’t find you!

We overslept. Rushing to get him off to school on time, he said, The only thing I remember from my dreams was that I was in a big gun store. He shouldered his oversized pack and walked off down the path.

fallen leaves –
wanting to call
him back

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