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The Animals
by Hannah Nguyen

With his affection, my father
was most generous to
the animals of our childhood—
the dogs he roughhoused
outdoors, then gently, pulled
burs from their fur. The parrot
a perched stillness on her ledge,
eyelids closed inside his slow,
soft petting of her head. In this
tenderness, we drew nearest
to him, a man raised without
the familiarity of touch, and so
failed to touch us, but for this.


 


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