An Excerpt from Robert Gipe’s <i>Trampoline</i>
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An Excerpt from Robert Gipe’s Trampoline

by Robert Gipe

There was a spot of color on my mother’s cheek…seeping through like blood seeping through a rag. I wanted to wring my real mother out from the rag her body had become. I wanted to wring that rag out over a bucket, pour what I wrung out into some kind of mold, like a jello mold of my old momma, my good momma, and make her back into what she was. Continue reading