April Bernard reads
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aria from Annalissa Beagle’s The Ice GodDon’t ask me if I have a home unless you want to see the fjord open across my face, the water that cuts into the land as if looking for a place to cease and be safe from tides. Don’t ask me if I have a home if you can’t bear to hear of the years of wandering, the false starts, the tender song that shuddered with the knowledge of the second verse’s sigh. And don’t ask me if I have a home unless you’ve seen the place for me, a kitchen window where the sun sits, and a plate of yellow and blue. Don’t ask me if I have a home because the homeless veer like a flock across a field, panicked sideways at the failing light that sends them southward, to the end of seasons.