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c o f f e e w i t h z i t h e r a, y e r e v a n, a r m e n i a, a p r i l, 1 9 9 7
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C H R I S T I N E B A I N E S
Note: In Yerevan the winter of 1992 was especially harsh. There was no fuel
for heating houses and little food. Many died of hunger and cold.
Her children sprawl on jewel
colors woven in Ijivan
watching The Lion King
dubbed in Russian as
she offers me chocolates
and pastry and fresh fruit
arranged on thin bone china
and the sunlight flashes off
silver and the polished table --
we sit in the window passing a lazy
afternoon chatting about dressmakers
and where to stay in Tblisi.
As she raises the pot to pour
my coffee her sleeve falls
back and I see the small white etchings
on her skin, remembrances
from the winter of 1992
when she opened her arms to feed
her hungry babies.
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