My name, Camille, means witness at the sacrifice.
What could I make of this when I was young? What sacrifice?
Coastal breeze and jacaranda trees when I was young.
When we moved, the hope of temperate weather was one sacrifice.
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Monthly Archives: April 2021
Camille’s poem “Let Me” is featured in The New Yorker
Let me tell you, America, this one last thing.
I will never be finished dreaming about you.