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Poem: RIP 

Once I broke a butterfly.
She flew into my bedroom,
fancied herself safe amidst dolls and books and a colony of
little mice fashioned from seashells and pipe cleaners.
I watched her as she frolicked, floating with wings
outstretched until she fell upon my open palm,
fragile as a flame.
I shredded her golden wings like wet paper.
My father breathed into my ear as he
placed his sweaty hands on mine,
guiding my fingers.
“So beautiful,” he murmured,
and tore.

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Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company Presents The Entertainer

Tue., Dec. 6, 7:15 p.m. and Wed., Dec. 7, 7:15 p.m. — Set against the backdrop of post-war Britain, John Osborneʼs modern classic conjures...

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