{"product_id":"i-love-you-call-me-back-isbn-9780593185872","title":"I Love You, Call Me Back","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom one of the most-viewed spoken word poets of all time, a collection exploring loneliness, anxiety, and longing—and finding peace, and even joy, in unexpected places\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sabrina Benaim, author of \u003ci\u003eDepression \u0026amp; Other Magic Tricks\u003c\/i\u003e, has connected deeply with readers and reached millions of viewers through her poetry, breaking down the stigma around mental illness. Now, she dives into challenging and universal territory: grief over a relationship’s end, loneliness in a world under lockdown, and the anxiety of caring for a loved one from afar in the wake of a serious diagnosis.  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Unfurling over the course of one month in 2020, in seventy-five original poems, \u003ci\u003eI Love You, Call Me Back \u003c\/i\u003egrapples with mental health struggles and the uncertainty of the moment and beyond. In isolation, Sabrina dares to embrace loneliness in all its permutations: the sorrow of getting your mother’s voicemail when you call to say “I love you\"; the bitter-sweetness when your dog takes up your ex’s side of the bed; the joys of eating ice cream for dinner and singing badly, \u003ci\u003eloudly\u003c\/i\u003e. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In her raw and deeply relatable style, Sabrina reminds us to love our whole selves: you can’t have joy without sorrow, and being anxious or depressed doesn’t mean you can never be happy. In her words, “Sometimes self-care is just surviving.” And that’s okay. Sabrina shows us that there’s beauty and courage in that, too.“\u003ci\u003eI Love You, Call Me Back\u003c\/i\u003e is such a towering testament to the human condition, which rings and echoes louder and longer now, after a year of distance, a year of sometimes isolation. This book reminded me of how to come back into myself, how to come back into a world that will maybe be more gentle than before. But even if it isn't, I'm more ready for it now than I was before finding these poems.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003cb\u003eHanif Abdurraqib, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eGo Ahead in the Rain\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sabrina Benaim is a magician when it comes to writing about heartache in a way that evaporates the heartache of the reader. It’s been years since I’ve read anything that so fully captures the pulse of solitude, and the undying connections that live beneath its ache. \u003ci\u003eI Love You, Call Me Back\u003c\/i\u003e feels genre-less in the very best of ways, a poetry collection-meets a memoir in verse-meets a love letter to the wrecking ball that shatters all of the walls between us. Time slowed down when I read these words. I’d look up from the page and notice a hundred details about my surroundings that I hadn’t noticed before. I am more HERE because of this book, and I can’t think of a greater gift to my life than that.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003cb\u003eAndrea Gibson, author of \u003ci\u003eTake Me with You\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eLord of the Butterflies\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Poet Sabrina Benaim’s second collection is fantastic... Her poems circle loneliness, plants that look like Shrek ears, anxiety, and love.\"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eZibby Owens for Katie Couric Media\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[T]his vulnerable collection focuses on the little, specific moments of sadness of missing someone; the isolation so many felt throughout 2020; and a raw, deep reminder that we cannot have joy without sorrow.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eBuzzfeed\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eSabrina Benaim\u003c\/b\u003e is a poet, storyteller, and workshop facilitator. She is one of the most-viewed spoken word poets of all time: her videos have reached more than one hundred million people. In 2017, her debut collection, \u003ci\u003eDepression \u0026amp; Other Magic Tricks\u003c\/i\u003e, was a Goodreads Choice Awards finalist, finishing just behind Rupi Kaur's \u003ci\u003eThe Sun and Her Flowers\u003c\/i\u003e. In 2020, she took part in the Heavy Hitters Festival alongside Ani DiFranco, Amber Tamblyn, and Mary Lambert. She lives in Toronto, Canada.\u003cp\u003eJune 30\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI dress in the dark. It does not matter if I forget my necklace or earrings. Keep forgetting which day of the week it is but remember to eat breakfast. Swallow the good white bullet that poisons the place where the lonely breeds. I am dancing again, in the kitchen, spicing sliced pears. I am baking again, in the restful yawn of morning. Each afternoon, I go for a walk through the cemetery, place pennies on the \"Speller\" graves. Sit in the grass cross-legged with the flowers and write a new religion, where we pray only with and never to. Read poems aloud and remember my favorite lines onto postcards I will procrastinate sending to the people I love. I live alone. Eight states and a border away from home. My cups are clean and upside down in the cupboard. I watercolor peonies instead of picking new wounds. When my tiny talk machine chirps, I do not always check it. I do not wish to see a ghost. I do not wish a summons. I allow myself to go entire days without speaking to anyone, except my mother. I swallow two bullets blue each night for the ever-grief. Sleep. I have not used the word depressed to describe myself outside of a poem in months, but I am drinking Diet Pepsi again. The thing is my head is a bright place I would not hesitate to invite you into. I've painted all the furniture marigold sunrise. Today, at 7-Eleven, I asked for a lighter and do you know what color the cashier gave me? Yes, keep me in this canary dream where I sugar scrub my lips soft as feathers and pretend to kiss. I confess, sometimes I cry when I look in a mirror, but I tell myself it is the mirror who is crying with jealousy. On the generous days, I tell myself I am sweet enough to spread on toast and call dessert. Then, I giggle, I am not afraid to feel silly. I am not afraid to feel anymore. You know, I wish I wasn't so sad, I have been in such a good mood. Want to know a secret? I think being in love is just a better kind of lonely.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Dig. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIsn't that what you'd say, Sabrina?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e-my mother\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJuly 1\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAortic Aneurysm\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eImmediately I thought, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I've seen an episode of Grey's Anatomy about this. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI google :\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eaortic aneurysm \/ thoracic not abdominal \/ 5.6 cm \/ surgical procedures \/ \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eopen repair vs. endovascular \/ stent vs. graft \/ risks \/ common complications\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecan you stop an aortic aneurysm from growing?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecan you stop an aortic aneurysm from growing holistically?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhat happens if a 5.6 cm thoracic aortic aneurysm ruptures?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhy are all the aortic aneurysm statistics only documenting men?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estatistics for the survival rate of women who just turned sixty last November with a 5.6 cm thoracic aortic aneurysm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe hang up the phone. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI ask Siri,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            Which season of Grey's Anatomy has the episode \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith the aortic aneurysm           \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhere the doctors did everything they could. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSiri asks me to repeat myself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI say, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I am not ready for my mother to die. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSiri responds, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I don't understand the question. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei put down my phone \u0026amp; binge watch \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ean entire season of a reality tv show. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eice cream for dinner \u0026amp; i'm dairy free. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor hours, nothing matters. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei water the plants out of habit, not care.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei watch the episode of Grey's Anatomy \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhich is about an aortic dissection, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot a boring aortic aneurysm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethis comforts me in the slightest,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut it could have been the ice cream,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eor how my mom declared only four puffs of \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea cigarette since the diagnosis.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe wants to live.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewe will wait for tests to be done \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto determine the appropriate procedure.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei see the colossal swell of depression \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecresting over my day\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; instead of holding my breath, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei wave to an old friend.   \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon video call,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei apologize for my splotchy skin\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; my best friend tells me that i am beautiful \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esays that is the best thing about my face \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJuly 2\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTomorrow Comes Anyway\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy skin hurts\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; I don't like my hair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            Tomorrow comes anyway.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            The sun is not inspirational,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            it is on fire.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI have become\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe queen of the uninspired.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was once queen of the firebellies,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efell in love with everyone I met, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esaid nothing about my love,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elet it grow \u0026amp; grow \u0026amp; grow until \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe whole of it was gone. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            Like the moon.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            The moon is aspirational,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            it can be here \u0026amp; invisible.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI want you to know that \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis almost exactly how I feel about myself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI can be queen of disappearing from everywhere \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexcept the mirror. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; it's easy to say a shadow is still a body.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            What exists cannot un-exist,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            only burn out,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            fall out of orbit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy mind goes insane\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; a body is a body, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeven if I look at my body \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; see a most misshapen thing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy skin, it physically hurts,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            but I don't want to die,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I just want to lie on the road \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            for a little bit \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhile it rains \u0026amp; everything glistens.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReigning queen of the glittering.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI rub my eyes with sparkles every day. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI want to see the world this way;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI want to look in the mirror,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ereflect my shine back\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            so blinding, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I don't see anything \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            at all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei imagine diving into a bed of milk thistle \u0026amp; scratching \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy skin new.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei allow rotten thoughts like this to bloom like moon vine \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein the midnight hour.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei am ashamed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei wish to exist as ladybug, fruit fly, small enough to hide \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einside of a tiger lily. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn a Text Message\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe man I am in love with says to me, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"it's just that, in my head, you aren't real.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand like that, poof! I am a ghost. You once begged for a haunting. But you know what? Maybe some other time. Ha. Time is not real. I mean, I am more real than time. You are cruel. A kiss goodbye. A spell. Like the notes of a piano when you finger the right keys. Dancing in the living room, in your arms, you rolling up the sleeve of my T-shirt, wasn't I real enough? Perfect and temporary. A bloom curious about winter. A peach-colored rose called cinnamon. I fix myself a dinner of dandelion wishes; to be real to be real to be real. I sit on my yellow couch. Sing along with Mac when he says, I think we just might be alright. I will be alright. The rocks are aligned on the windowsill. The cutlery is asleep in the top drawer. Everything has its place. Your place is far from mine. Your face is far from mine. I think about missing you. I let it go. My hands do not shake when I remember I can barely remember how to dance in the dark. I buy a candle. I forgot my name, dyed my hair, sunset the song. It skips; my heart gallops away. Yes, I went and you stayed behind. And then you got mad and told me not to come back. But then you got mad when I didn't come back. And you didn't talk to me for months. And now you don't want to talk to me anymore. The first thing I do is forgive myself for how long it's taking to look in a mirror, touch my body and feel myself, better than perfect and good as any flower; I am real. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEscitalopram\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWithout you,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI move in slow motion.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNauseous by midday.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo soothe,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI become a thick plume of smoke.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI flag surrender\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            \u0026amp; depression takes me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJuly 3\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt is peculiar; the numb spell of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eantidepressants. I wake up and repeat, and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erepeat. Every day, in the park, with the birds\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand their wing-flap rat-ta-tat takeoff. I only\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edream of staying. But where? But how? I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003euse my fingernail to carve my initials\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einto the bark of the tree in the park, where  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI sit for days, waiting to hear the wind's\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003evoice. In the park, I am under the \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eimpression the wind has forgotten \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy name. Under a moonless sky, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecounting cherry pits, I curse each star \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor teaching me how to sit cross-legged \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand burn. I must have died thirty deaths since\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI last saw myself. In the park, the feeling \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof wanting to say something true knits my teeth \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etogether. I blink the minutes by, ask for wishes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efrom blinking streetlamps. The raccoons \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edrum a racket outside on the lids of \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egarbage bins, their noise another empty threat \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof company. I do not care for sleep, unless \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe dreams are of water towers painted with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy name. A whisper in the wind begs wait, or\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eperhaps the whisper is coming from \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eme. I want to believe the future is \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea beautiful place. I reach for it, but my arms\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eClonazepam\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eround   pill       to ease the panic\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epeach   coin     currency of calm breaths\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecompressed      zip file of medicine\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esugarless          rocket  disintegrates into dreams\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eswallowed        missile to dissolve the quivering\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; at once         a hug    a straitjacket\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAripiprazole\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEach night my alarm rings 10 p.m.,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI bring my body, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eperfect chandelier of teeth \u0026amp; bone,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto the altar of the bathroom sink.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI place two blue \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eberries of ripe motivation on my tongue \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; swallow.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf it weren't for this, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI would do nothing but worry.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eImagine my mind,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea light switch,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethis is the hand \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat turns it bright each morning.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJuly 4\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn Progress\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eduring the video call the doctor asks about effectiveness \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            I bloom open each sunrise \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            wide as hibiscus petals\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; what about side effects \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            the unbearable tightness of blue jeans\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eafterward, I sit at my desk \u0026amp; scroll through my camera roll \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewaste an hour comparing my body to its old figure \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003espiral into cans of aspartame bubbles \u0026amp; nothing else \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            burn the toast \/ toss it to the birds \/ do not make more \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI cannot name all of the ways I have attempted to bend my bones\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon the video call the therapist asks\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen the disordered eating began\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            black bodysuit \/ pink tights \/ room of mirrors\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u0026amp; what do I love about myself here now today \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            as if the shiniest penny I might find \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            won't still be a penny\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere are things I do because I know I am supposed to \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethings like leaving voicemails or salting the water when it boils\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esome days I cannot bring myself to think about chewing \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            if only I were fuchsia \u0026amp; flower\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e            all I'd ever have to swallow is the sun\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emom tells me her next doctor's appointment is in three weeks.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e. . . three weeks.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIntroduction to Santina\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eScorpio\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRed hair red lips \u0026amp; red nails to match \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBlack eyeliner \u0026amp; hairspray\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eForever in heels \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWalking disco song\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePeacock confidence \/ Blows kisses to herself in the mirror\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGrounded \/ Afraid of heights\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBad with directions\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSocial homebody\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThoughtful\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCries at commercials  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLive, laugh, love enthusiast\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCard shark\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDancing queen \/ White zinfandel, two-glass maximum \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLoves to host a party\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLoves knowing her neighbors\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLoves a love story \/ a good love song \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFavorite holiday: Christmas \/ Is Santa Claus \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIs the sun\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRelentless optimist \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHas jokes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWill answer to Mama Bear\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMama Bear\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe is waking me up for school.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDriving me to dance class.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCarrying the groceries in with both hands.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn the basement doing the laundry.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn her gray cleaning T-shirt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReading books aloud at bedtime.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePutting on elaborate shows to make us laugh.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReading books with dramatic flair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelping with homework.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTaking me shopping for new clothes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDoing my makeup for recitals.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBrushing knots out of my hair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaking the bed alone. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaking dinner alone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBaking dessert.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSitting at the kitchen table \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReady to talk.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBuying me peach schnapps for prom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy first box of condoms.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eScolding me for smoking pot in my bedroom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFighting with me about sleeping all day.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn the doctor's office waiting room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe therapist's parking lot.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn line picking up my prescriptions.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFaceTiming me while I am crying.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePulling laughter out of the dark days.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn the passenger seat telling me to slow down.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn the plane to celebrate my thirtieth birthday.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn the phone while I drive across the country.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIs there. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe has always been there. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe Good News\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis spring still came. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCame anyway.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHyacinths \u0026amp; strawberry \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebegonias bloomed. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMyrtle spilled over concrete corners,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethose little lime green plants,  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe ones that look like Shrek ears\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esprouted into high-rise bushes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe robins built nests. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir perfect blue eggs \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enuzzled in Desiree's mailbox.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI check on their well-being via Instagram. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI open the windows \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto be a part of the world outside. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe world is outside,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyet is unfathomable.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI stay inside \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erepotting plants, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebaking banana bread, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elearning unnecessarily complicated TikTok dances. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI spend the early evenings wandering \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe empty alleyways covered in fallen bubblegum petals. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI am talking about the flowers \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebecause I miss touching you, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeing touched by you,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeing touched by anyone \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho is not myself. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI am numb to the desperation\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebuzz of the are you still watching screen. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI want the sound of people talking \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto fill my empty kitchen \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhile I wash my single dish \u0026amp; cup. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI have to keep reminding myself \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ean itch does not exist to be scratched. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI have to stop drafting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etweets composed solely of melodramatic lyrics. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo distract myself \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI infuse honey with cardamom seeds, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epractice French braids. I study \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe robin occupying the tree \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoutside my living room window; \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe robin sits \u0026amp; does nothing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI mimic it for hours.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDaydream\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI am your wife. You bring yellow flowers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eevery Monday when you arrive home.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI keep them out on the wooden table \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eno taller than a tulip standing \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon the shoulders of another tulip.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe go for walks after the sun goes down,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esteal daffodils from the neighbors' gardens.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll I want to talk about is loving you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe wind rustles the rocks that hang on string\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efrom the magnolia tree in our yard\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elike chimes, we waltz slippery in our socks.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe eat too many sour candies, but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elive content in our little cavity.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emost nights\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewe have a family-wide video call at 7 p.m.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei am watching my nephew laugh for the first time \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethrough a screen\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ei am watching my mother watching my nephew laugh\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeveryone is beaming \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJuly 5   \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMabel wakes me up at 4:57 a.m.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOutside, it is quiet as a cemetery; nothing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut the sound of insects.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe feeling of not being good enough writhes inside of me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMabel doesn't care what I look like as long as I feed her, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eplay with her, keep her from getting bored, take her out, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand love her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI do all of these things for myself and yet I cannot leave the house \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Plume","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304826720485,"sku":"NP9780593185872","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593185872.jpg?v=1767729678","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/i-love-you-call-me-back-isbn-9780593185872","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}