The dresser in the empty bedroom is stocked with pictures
from times before I was born.
I sift, shift, shiver.
Memories swelling like a gasoline rainbow lie snared in the
between morning glory and midnight insanity –
there are no absolutes.

The valleys of my spine are artifacts tumbled through time
If you trace my two halves far enough you will find
My violin string fingers trapped in the folds between
my grandmother’s garden
and the ship that houses my great uncle’s stowaway spirit.
But buried beneath the soil is a heart that will not bend to

Anchored, armored.
Come, come look at your country.

“Something Like Hope,” Haley Lee (Portfolio Gold Winner, 2014)

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