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Secrets A family full of secrets, of the kind Well-meaning folk now call dysfunctional; We always moved but never left behind The memories we were not allowed to have. Anguish and pleading and indifference We each of us played all the roles in turn; It seemed eternally to make no difference But we were wrong since one of us was dead. I ran away to books, fantastic lands, To verse, where things add up: I came on Rostam Floundering in the pit his brother’s hands Had dug, pierced by the stakes I knew I’d sharpened.  You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...

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