female
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From the Archive: Rumpus Original Fiction—The Christmas Party
I laugh. My laugh, this thing that sounds better on somebody else.
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Sunday Rumpus Poetry: Three Poems by Amy Strauss Friedman
I thought that hearts were meant to function as uteri, / to grow linings that bleed clotty when life won’t adhere, / to stall like rusty engines in barren winters, / unprepared for the seasonal shift.