Guest Post, by Diane Lefer: A Sentence About a Sentence I Love

But what they perceive as tranquility, Francine experiences as a sort of unpleasant limpness, her heart a slack muscle, as if after having delivered an outsized grief, it never quite snapped back and stubbornly holds, if not sorrow itself, then the soft shape of it.

–From Sharon Sheehe Stark’s “The Johnstown Polka,” from The Dealer’s Yard

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