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198 The Summer She Died Rest in peace. That just about says Everything—for her, but not for me. My shaky hands hold The photo, her face less than the size of my thumb. Unless I’m mistaken, she seems Relaxed, standing out in the back yard Next to the orange tree the summer she died. Perhaps this is how memory works now. Longing that never, never Ends and always finds Another missing piece. Like her Smile, not in this picture, but Ever on her face. Based on a photograph with the words “Please return” handwritten on the bottom of the photo. Written for Other People’s Memories/Found Photos: A Dialogue With The Anonymous, an exhibit curated by Paula Gray Mendocino College Art Gallery September 13 – October 11, 2007 ...

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