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Evening Prayer
Wind and rain closed the windows
We sat kneeling by the hearth
in the religion we would inherit.
The woman who bore us
cast spells to make us small.
Her voice droned dully on our necks.
We sat mute, newly initiated.
The man who had begotten us
raised his hand. We offered our heads.
He imprinted his thumb in our brains.
Wind and rain bombarded the dream.
Under the bed, wolves and witches slept.
Translated by Kendall Dunkelberg
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Poetry
from The Literary Review