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" A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. " - from "The New Colossus" by Emma LazarusA wake for our beloved Dream. In her beauty she decomposes, draped on a table cloth in the parlor; set out like a forgotten feast. Her lamp has cooled and been scoured to a copper burnish; defunct. We cover our noses with white linen kerchiefs and dance around the implications of our deceased matron with idle talk and glazed faces even the scarabs disdain.