From the Archives: “Grown” by Janelle Adsit

we choose familiar
places for goodbye
places with trees,
twigs hardly
fastened,
and geese droppings
like paste beneath us
which we avoid
so as not to stay
or take
the place with us.
the bed
of water holds
the green—only
green—so not even
our reflections
can remind us.

Originally published in Winter 2009.

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