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For That

on the way down the hill the girls and I remember

last week when they did a botch job

polishing each other’s fingernails

the child shows me her hands now: see my mother

got the red out of the places

where you couldn’t

my offhanded question: your mother

wasn’t upset about your nails was she

no it was okay she didn’t

hit me for that


Lyall Harris is a visual artist and writer whose poetry and prose have appeared in The Minnesota Review, The New Guard, The Dewdrop, The Perch Magazine, The Vincent Brothers Review, High Shelf Press, and elsewhere; her creative nonfiction has been featured in The Montréal Review.

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