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July 1, 2012, vol 8, no 2

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Diana Webb

Ever After

The baby's rattle is a lemniscate. As he waves it the coloured rings slip, travelling the arcs and clinking against the curved transparent tube. He chews it, wraps his fingers round and round, rolls over, squeaks, kicks off the socks.

tick of the clock-
limpid dark
of his steady gaze