I went to a reading yesterday with Lucille Clifton at Bryn Mawr. Before she started reading, she was chatting with the audience in her grandmotherly way, and somehow in the conversation, Sekou Sundiata came up. She smiled at the mention of his name and then her eyeglassed eyes dropped their gaze to her clutching hands. She looked like she was
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And, what have I learned by heart?
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