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Hilary Sideris


She asks if Asthma is the name

of a goddess. Its etymology is dull

unless you’re Anastasia, Greek

resurrection— ana, up and sta,

stand firm, my remote student

who checks boxes on the Oakland

waterfront, the world’s fifth busiest

port, inhaler in hand for quality

control. Eighteen wheelers stall

in coiling lines, unload diesel

particulates too small to see

into her lungs, her blood.

It comes from ázein,

I say, breathe hard.

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