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Poems
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FISHERMEN’S VILLAGE | VIA POLITICA
Squinty, salt-dusted windows gaze into the distance.
Luljeta Lleshanaku
FISHERMAN, 50 B.C.
What else would I do on the river
Benno Barnard
Fish Belly Poem and a poem by Wang Yuyang translated by Arthur Sze
Dr. Xia Kejun said today:
Wang Jiaxin
First Words
In the marriage booth at sleep-away camp,
Rebecca Michels
First Wedding
It was one of those days when not even the bland sun
Diane K. Martin
First Days at the Conservancy
I’m looking out the window—Paula’s window—
Carol Moldaw
First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed
I shall sit here, on this bench,
Kristian Koželj
Firing My Father’s Mossberg
At the shooting range,
Dzvinia Orlowsky
Fireworks or Gunfire?
It’s just somebody sighting his gun—
Chase Twichell
FIREFLIES
Evenings when the children
Jennifer O’Grady
Fifteen Essays on Boats, Boats, Language, and the SS
The Palermo Airport is not large.
Ann Pedone
Field Dressing
Dispatch animal
Angela Ball
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