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This poem is taken from PN Review 243, Volume 45 Number 1, September - October 2018.

Two Poems Betsy Rosenberg

Lying on my back, knees up,
pressing lightly on my heels
suddenly it was 1950
on a downtown street in Cleveland, Ohio
and I was a slender young man in a
gray suit and gray fedora
outside an office building
about to
walk through a revolving door.

Under the concrete
is a world not gray but beautiful,
where I am at home among the bones
of Iroquois and Kickapoo, ho Kickapoo,
my brothers, my sisters

There is a cokey stench from

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