Valentina Cano

There were rooms like drawers.
One that held a flag which
had to be woken and fed before unfurling.
Another with a staircase as thin as a spine
that whispered the scientific names
of the animals that had died beneath its boards.
There was an attic that held
portfolios of everyday massacres
stuffed into construction paper animals
Rabbits full of severed thoughts which our
parents signed at the end of the year.

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