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By: Tiffany Noelle Fung
 
Somehow I manage
                                               Each fork parallels its knife.
                                               The clock makes the stillness
                                               Wither.  She knows how best.
To ignore you.  How.
                                               To count the steps to an autumn
                                               Road.  Emptied.  A limp ribbon
                                               Turns to knots.  The vase suffices.
 I manage.
                                               To make the plates look natural.
                                               The napkins pressed.  Clenched.
                                               The prize-winning rose askew.
I ignore you.  Some-
                                               Say ‘I’m excused’ and break off.
                                               A meal deserted.  Seconds remain.
                                               Tonight I want no manners.
How I manage.


Tiffany Fung graduated from Columbia's MFA program, and her poems have appeared in nycbigcitylit, Tin House, and the Harvard Dudley Review.  She grew up in Portland, OR, and currently lives and works in New York City.
   
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The Pruning
The Beekeepers by Tiffany Noelle Fung
Issue 2
   
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