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THE FLOOD Tonight the river rises in the chest of drawers. Boxes drift from shelves, and the whole house leaks from every socket. Room by room, it’s going down, the floor buckling. In the kitchen, flowers from the tablecloth climb onto the wallpaper up to the ceiling. And when it wells under my tongue, when it runs down my throat and spills from my lips, I say, River, Let me breathe you.  ...

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