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Going Home MAG
Beyond the gateway,
a cow drains herself
to nourish her children &
today we are mixing
butter with bare hands.
Salt constantly nips
on my tongue
so wherever I’m at,
I know it’s not home.
The wind, strongest at
dawn, whips around me
to remedy its own &
crafts the butter before
it gets to my throat.
Tonight, I am constructing
a home: with its thick walls made of hands and its rooftop of
salty butter.
When the rooftop melts
and drips onto my tongue, the hands strengthen their grasp
until I realize
that my very own home
has tried to strangle me.
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Zizheng is a student from Texas. When he's not writing, he loves snapping photos of the world around him with his Canon Rebel camera.