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Victoria Chang reads her poem, “OBIT, Caretakers”.

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My name is Victoria Chang and my mom passed away in 2015 of pulmonary fibrosis and I wrote these kind of short, small obituaries for her.  This is "OBIT, Caretakers".  


Caretakers--died in 2009, 2010,
2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 
2016, 2017, one after another.
One didn't show up because her
husband was in prison.  Most
others watched the clock.  Time
breaks for the living eventually
and they can walk out of doors.
The handle of time's door is hot
for the dying.  What use is a door
if you can't exit?  A door that
can't be opened is called a wall.
My father is on the other side
of the wall.  Tomatoes are ripen-
ing on the other side.  I can see
them through the window that
also can't be opened.  A window
that can't be opened is just a see-
through wall.  Sometimes we're 
on the inside like a plane.  Most
of the time, we're on the out-
side like doggie day care.  I don't
know if the tomatoes are the new
form of his language or if they're 
simply for eating.  I can't ask him
because on the other side, there
are no words.  All I can do is stare
at the nameless bursting tomatoes
and know they have to be enough.