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This poem is taken from PN Review 237, Volume 44 Number 1, September - October 2017.

Three Poems Nina Bogin
Pink

It was her favorite colour.
In the small, overheated bathroom,
pink bath rug, pink towels, pink
shower curtain, pink toilet paper…
Even now I can feel the warmth
hissing through the coils of the radiator
as I washed my hands surrounded
by pink and felt as if I might choke
if I stayed one more minute
in that narrow space –
Grandma Sophie’s tiny haven
of comfort, her pastel dream
of a life without torment.
She asked for so little, only
for everyone to be happy,
or short of that, then simply
...


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