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January 2013, vol 8, no 4

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Carol Pearce-Worthington


On a Hill

Oh how lonely I was without you and I so longing for you so lonely for you so full of the thought of you on a hill confined like a grain of us I could not bear to have you tell me of those who took away your shoes refused your eye care stole your money ridiculed you and our marriage. Now I want you to look at the facts and you refuse. Who can blame you. I also want to die when I see your swollen legs.

the arrival
of winter flowers
a sax player’s song




crane