Today, I read a poem…

It was by Helena Lipstadt entitled “A Quarrel with the Village of My Birth.”

The word “village” lured me in.

I fell in love with each “Even her” – especially in the following line:

“Even her avenues are lined with pikes.”

Then I read each “Of course” and was compelled to share.

Read “A Quarrel with the Village of My Birth” at Porter House Review.

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