Untitled

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Eating the leftover wine-and-tomato pot roast
that your mother set, finished, on the stove
five minutes before her accident last night,
along with the potatoes she had prepped and peeled
(and which you cooked and mashed
tonight, while she lay in a hospital bed).
It’s very rich. But it’s also like tasting Before.
It’s like tasting What If.

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