Start FamilyStrange thing.To make another person,With another person.Strange thing.To be half of one personAnd half of another —So that it might seem,All the good that lives in youIs a breathing monument of them.And all that feelsWrongIs an accident of natural dangersLike the graze on your pillow palmsWhen youTrippedAnd fell,Five years old.Strange thing.To have a slice of yourselfWalking up your stairsAnd through your kitchenLike a most obliviousHome invasion.The only risk is thatThey gain anUnderstandingLike thisOne.
— Frank Baring
Submit your poetry, short fiction or personal musings to bweditors@columbia.edu
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