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61 Foundling Renunciation . . . is a piercing virtue. Emily Dickinson But to be the one renounced in name of virtue—that’s a bad joke, a taste in the mouth like last night’s garlic. Sweat it out. Comes the wound without the honor, like the martyr soldier’s horse. Insult to fibers moral and connective. Do I shame you? So I shame you. Your secret’s showing, not to be spoken. Rumor in the blood refused: call me applecart upsetter, homewrecker, closet skeleton; the story is well known. The hills above this city are scarred with infants’ bones. ...

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