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Elegy for Mrs. Abbot, Room 14Imre HorvathHer StationThandi NkosiWhat I Taught Without Meaning ToImre HorvathThe Boy Who Hated ReadingImre HorvathWhat the Radio Knew Before I DidThandi NkosiThe Song I Never LearnedThandi NkosiForgetting a NameImre HorvathChalkImre HorvathWhat My Grandmother Taught the ChoirThandi NkosiSmall Fluent ThingMarisol VegaWhat the Photograph Won't SayMarisol VegaVoicemail, KeptKai MorenoElegy for the Answering MachineSaoirse DoyleSestina for the House We SoldSaoirse DoyleThe Long Way HomeMara Okonkwo
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Chalk

Imre Horvath

Cinquain · Memory · Work

White dust.Forty-one yearsground into my knuckles —the only proof I kept that Ionce taught.

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Up next · no reading yetWhat My Grandmother Taught the ChoirShe didn't teach pitch. She taught arrival.