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          Some Afternoons When Nobody Was Fighting
          By Lyn Lifshin

          my mother took out
          walnuts and chocolate
          chips. My sister and
          I plunged our fingers
          in flour and butter
          smoother than clay.
          Pale dough oozing
          between our fingers
          while the house filled
          with blond bars rising.
          Mother in her pink dress
          with black ballerinas
          circling its bottom
          turned on the Victrola,
          tucked her dress up into
          pink nylon bloomer pants,
          kicked her legs up in the
          air and my sister and I
          pranced thru the living
          room, a bracelet around
          her. She was our Pied
          Piper and we were
          the children of Hamlin,
          circling her as close as the
          dancers on her hem

          © Copyright 2004, Lyn Lifshin, All Rights Reserved.

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Document last modified on: 09/28/2004

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