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Elizabeth Acevedo has written a five-start novel in verse about a poet, Xiomara, who calls herself, Poet X.

“I’ve never mourned something dying
before this moment.

I have no more poems. My mind blanks.
A roar tears from my mouth.
“Burn it! Burn it.
This is where the poems are,” I say,
thumping a fist against my chest.”

“Will you burn me? Will you burn me, too?
You would burn me, wouldn’t you, if you could?””

… page 308, Burn

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