In a requiem for a house—affluence and immigrants get hidden in welfare states.  Things can keep cool before cooking. Store in basements.  Up in a bedroom : spit and lip skin dry on harmonica metal.  A boy sings along about bodies and bottles of beer, smokes, some blond girl, about volume and righteousness.  The lamp left on all night.  There are enough eggs for fine and genuine bread puddings but there is no flour.  No bread.  All the reds burn thresholds down so much like the colors of hungry stomachs.

Soham Patel, originally published in XCP 23 (2010)

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