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	<title>Getting Something Read</title>
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	<link>http://shortpoem.org</link>
	<description>Short Works for the Peripatetic Web Surfer</description>
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		<title>Connecting the Dots</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/connecting-the-dots/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/connecting-the-dots/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 Sep 2010 08:00:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Neal Whitman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Features]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1340</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman, Poetry Prof Amos Oz opens his novel, Rhyming Life &#38; Death, with the main character, The Author, telling us the most commonly asked questions. One of these is: Do you constantly cross out and correct or do you write straight out of your head? &#8220;Connecting the dots&#8221; –– a metaphor for seeing the big picture. [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Alabama Sunshine</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/alabama-sunshine/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/alabama-sunshine/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 08:00:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Ingrassia]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/alabama-sunshine/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Ingrassia Grasshopper lies hidden, then suddenly takes flight; In a field of green: such a little thing - I step lightly, gazing at the sky, tiny silhouettes circling, hawks among the clouds. Originally posted 2008-05-21 23:55:14.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/alabama-sunshine/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Early Spring In The Garden</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/early-spring-in-the-garden/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/early-spring-in-the-garden/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 08:00:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Martha Christina]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1346</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Martha Christina All the signs of renewal reassuring, and humbling. I kneel, as befits a pilgrim, and clear away dead leaves.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/early-spring-in-the-garden/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Beauty that Lies Within</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/beauty-that-lies-within/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/beauty-that-lies-within/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 23 Aug 2010 08:00:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Monique McDowell]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=195</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Monique McDowell The woman in the mirror You see today Is a woman Who reflects Beauty Strength Gentleness And love She indeed mirrors The unfading beauty That lies within Originally posted 2008-06-25 20:55:43.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/beauty-that-lies-within/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Without You</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/without-you/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/without-you/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 23 Aug 2010 08:00:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Martha Christina]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1345</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Martha Christina Our dog veers into the ditch, noses an open-toed shoe, as if she could track a missing mate as if reunion and repair were still possible.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/without-you/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Crumpled note found in my pocket</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/crumpled-note-found-in-my-pocket/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/crumpled-note-found-in-my-pocket/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 16:38:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Phillip M. Roberts]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/crumpled-note-found-in-my-pocket/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Phillip M. Roberts Trees circulate light through verdant foliated crowns delivered seven minutes from the sun. Morning birds flock in shadowy constellations (anti-stars) wings sound like brittle wind rattled leaves. Originally posted 2008-05-08 16:13:40.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Deep Deep Dark</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 16:38:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alice Folkart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=926</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Alice Folkart She gets off the bus by the park, it&#8217;s almost dark, it&#8217;s dark, it&#8217;s dark, there are always men in the park, in the dark, dark, dark, some in the light, having a fight or playing baseball, strike one. Some men run and run and run, around the track, in and out [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/deep-deep-dark/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>And there was light</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/and-there-was-light/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/and-there-was-light/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 16:38:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kristina Baer]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1337</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Kristina Baer Urgent as intuition, brief as a sigh, it leaps across the fallow shadow field of the still-forming universe from its birthplace in the deep still blue of heaven&#8217;s vault: Divine thought into light.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/and-there-was-light/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Rhesus Factor</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/rhesus-factor/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/rhesus-factor/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 07:02:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ramakrishnan Parthasarathy]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/06/rhesus-factor/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Ramakrishnan Parthasarathy ours is a long line paleoanthropology demur lemur prehensile reprehensible evolve we ate in our prime primate share two legs pedagogy quadruped eternal positive Originally posted 2008-06-13 20:25:45.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/rhesus-factor/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Derelict</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/derelict/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/derelict/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 07:02:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Howie Good]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=438</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Howie Good In ragged company on a day cold enough to freeze tears swigging from a paper bag under the overpass with the frantic gestures of a drowning man and the unseen sea incited as by dementia and full of tiny lives shaking its silver bracelets Originally posted 2008-08-16 18:58:58.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/derelict/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Garden</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-garden/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-garden/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Aug 2010 07:02:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Phebe Davidson]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/04/the-garden/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Phebe Davidson I watched a hawk stoop hard for prey. The other day I saw him blast a squirrel&#8217;s nest, saw the drift and splinters shiver on morning air. I saw the yard empty and heard no sound one long minute, nothing stirred or sang. Then, in that charged space, one raucous jay. Originally [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-garden/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Dollar in the Wishing Well</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-dollar-in-the-wishing-well/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-dollar-in-the-wishing-well/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 15 Aug 2010 06:24:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul Hostovsky</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paul Hostovsky]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1024</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Paul Hostovsky Expensive delicate boat with a hundred chances on board floating above the drowned brown pennies with their one chance each piled on top of each other on the abject bottom. It wavers, shivers, turns over and the green president goes under and in god we trust and all that fancy acanthus leaf [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-dollar-in-the-wishing-well/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Smuggler</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/smuggler/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/smuggler/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 14 Aug 2010 04:51:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Harold G Grimes III]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/04/smuggler/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Harold G Grimes III They roll in their fate shedding dead weight, the men that they purchase the women they stow precious cargo sent out to the masses. They sit and they smile in their mirrored sunglasses. Originally posted 2008-04-27 11:00:20.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/smuggler/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Consolation</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/consolation/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/consolation/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 13 Aug 2010 03:52:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Barbara Daniels]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/consolation/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Barbara Daniels I bend to kiss your shoulder. I kiss your hand at the wrist bone. A dog dead four thousand years spreads the thin bones of its clawed toes. It was someone&#8217;s lost companion, someone&#8217;s warm guard. I kiss your eyes in their tender sockets. I kiss your blinded hands. Originally posted 2009-05-26 [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/consolation/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Looking To November</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/looking-to-november/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/looking-to-november/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 12 Aug 2010 02:59:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kay Poiro]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1199</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Kay Poiro Looking forward to November I offer A crisp nod to the man with The natty overcoat and back Carved in the arc of humiliation Reminds me of the man hired to sit me As a child, I anticipated his moldy smell Yellowed fingertips and pirate stories I still see him At the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/looking-to-november/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>after a night of unheard rain</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/after-a-night-of-unheard-rain/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/after-a-night-of-unheard-rain/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 11 Aug 2010 02:25:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bruce Taylor]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1077</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Bruce Taylor after a night of unheard rain, its tenderness done there is a meadow road through the meadow and a forest road through pine grove and bog. there is the well by the wistful lilac where a wooden pail is swinging. Originally posted 2009-05-23 00:01:47.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/after-a-night-of-unheard-rain/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Identity</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/identity/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/identity/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Aug 2010 12:59:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Martha Christina]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/09/identity/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Martha Christina From a distance I mistake the albino caterpillar for a small gull feather, common in a coastal garden. Up close, what does it make of my finger, twice its girth, as I lift it from the slick surface of a stone, and place it in the assumed safety of the ferns? Blogged [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/identity/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Conversation with a Muse</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/conversation-with-a-muse/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/conversation-with-a-muse/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Aug 2010 00:34:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kristine Remick]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/the-miss-nina-peach-product-red-short-short-fiction-prize-winner/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Kristine Remick The storm driven darkness pulled shadow onto surfaces where the contrasts turned them to art. Ordinary things cast spectral gray shapes on the luncheonette’s friction worn Formica and scratched country patterns. Salt. Pepper. Chrome napkin holder. Thunder rattled the diner as the storm built outside. “What if I did?” The hooded woman [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/conversation-with-a-muse/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Old Western Town/Museum</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/old-western-townmuseum/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/old-western-townmuseum/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 07 Aug 2010 18:38:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Milosch</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Joseph D. Milosch]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/old-western-townmuseum/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Joseph Milosch It was mid morning &#8211; sparse clouds above mountains. In the old western town, it was approaching noon. One heard whispers as they entered the cabin, used by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. One heard their voices echo. In legend the door faced the entrance to the Hole in the Wall. [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/old-western-townmuseum/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Non Sense</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/non-sense/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/non-sense/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Aug 2010 04:13:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Michael Constantine McConnell</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michael Constantine McConnell]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/05/non-sense/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Michael Constantine McConnell I remember the beginning, when winged night led his mistress to Gomorrah, where they would prosper and raise a family of bratty little sinners. We once discussed such things over breakfasts, and flowers stemmed from our words, hung in the air like kites. Then the wind lost its Ã‚Â voice, and silence [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/non-sense/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>It’s Been Ten Years</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/its-been-ten-years/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/its-been-ten-years/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Aug 2010 05:30:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Neal Whitman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Features]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry Prof.]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Neal Whitman]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1332</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Neal Whitman, Poetry Prof There are moments in our existence, spots of time that, with distinct preeminence, retain a renovating virtue. Williams Wordsworth, Prelude Wordsworth began to write a poem when he was 28 years old to track the growth of his mind. He worked on it until his death at age 80 and [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/its-been-ten-years/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>I Always Wake (Grandfather&#8217;s story about 1933)</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/i-always-wake-grandfathers-story-about-1933/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/i-always-wake-grandfathers-story-about-1933/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 04 Jul 2010 04:11:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Milosch</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[New]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Joseph D. Milosch]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/i-always-wake-grandfathers-story-about-1933/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Joseph Milosch I always wake before my wife. In the morning I reignite the coals in our wood burning range. Galoshes stored beneath the sink. I slide them over my Buster Browns. From pegs behind the kitchen door, I remove my red, plaid, hunting cap and winter coat. Taking the broom, I sweep the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/i-always-wake-grandfathers-story-about-1933/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Dreidel in Rudolph&#8217;s Manger</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/the-dreidel-in-rudolphs-manger/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/the-dreidel-in-rudolphs-manger/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 05:11:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Todd Walton</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Todd Walton]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=894</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Todd Walton Israel Jacobs, born a Jew, and Margaret O&#8217;Hara, born and baptized a Catholic, were married in the spring of 1999. And despite their mothers, they lived quite happily until their only child, Felix, turned five. Then Christmas and Hanukkah loomed simultaneously as they always do, and the whole kettle of fish, gefilte [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://shortpoem.org/the-dreidel-in-rudolphs-manger/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>6</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Naming</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/naming/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/naming/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 05:10:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Francine Marie Tolf]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/2008/11/naming/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Francine Marie Tolf We have lost our ability to name. We say collateral damage, downsizing, factory farm. Error in judgment. Extraordinary rendition. We say sky, but we don&#8217;t mean it. We say antelope, owl, as if these words had power. As if the names of animals hadn&#8217;t long fled back into animals, where they [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Kokumo</title>
		<link>http://shortpoem.org/kokumo/</link>
		<comments>http://shortpoem.org/kokumo/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 01 Jul 2010 05:10:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>GSR</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Aderemi Adegbite]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://shortpoem.org/?p=1163</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[by Aderemi Adegbite You have come again, Again you have come Uppity child, Readily recognized indeed By your regalia. You have come again: You, the awaited child, With blemished marks On the dome of your tummy. This is your umpteenth time Of coming through the same path. Can&#8217;t you see that My belly is no [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
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