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Roasting Tomatoes

Hannah Harsin Drager

Today was all crow’s feet and inner genies; the inescapable feeling of the universe persisting. This leaf falls to the ground because it is an earthy thing. Balloons rise to be closer to God. There are things I know are untrue that I still cherish. She asked, “Why do we start history where we start it?” Picked up on an errant wind burst that is September, crumpled paperback pages, or the ocean. You fell on your knees. Ineffable mechanistic churnings. The sun started rising at 5:53 today and tomorrow it will be different. I put batter in a pan and it rose; tomatoes in the oven sputter and pop at 500 degrees. Sometimes I’m getting at something before I even know it. An incalculable expression no less in the world.

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