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Poetry | March 2016

Gigantomachy

By Ava Love Hanna

I tell him it’s time to take a nap;
he says, no thanks, mommy,
studies my face for a response.

I flush with fear
because it won’t matter what I do now—
if I scream, or yell, or cry—

he’s called my bluff.
He knows I am not a god,
and at only two, he is now a giant.

Tagged: Kudos

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