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Marcela Sulak

Wound tight inside the avocado
we once found a perfect copy
of the tree in miniature,
pale, translucent leaves unfurling,
coiled strings of roots, a stem
that split the pit. We didn’t have
the heart to toss it out, crowned
with coffee grounds and newspaper.
In the end, the landlady took it
with the rent. She said she’d plant it
among the rocks and jagged shade
against the southern slope for strength
since such carnal flavor thrives
the best under adverse conditions.

Marcela Sulak

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