POETRY BAPTISM Valerie Wohlfeld You enter through the door of roses and trefoil, held in your mother’s hands that seem as holy as the Madonna’s hands; the alcove Madonna who never...
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CURIO I am clouded glass, a long time sea-bound and carried on waves ancient as the day God made the waters. Without sound I drowned: shroud of glass shard tumbled on the sea spray. The glass...
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