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Ode to the Pot That Survived the Move

Marisol Vega

Ode · Home

Praise the dented pot that crossed an oceanwrapped in a coat we no longer own.Praise its one good handle, its black memoryof every soup that kept us through a winter.

Everything else we bought again, new.This we carried. This we would not replace.Praise the things too stubborn to be luggage.

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