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Victoria Redel

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Poetic Beginnings

Victoria Redel on Her Poetic Beginnings

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by this poet


Because my mother loved pocketbooks
I come alive at the opening click or close of a metal clasp.

And sometimes, unexpectedly, a faux crocodile handle makes me weep.

Breathy clearing of throat, a smooth arm, heels on pavement, she lingers, sound tattoos.

I go to the thrift store