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Poetry,
Etc
Poetry & Short Fiction
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A
Man’s Hands ~
by Leonora Record
Will
he pounce on his warm yielding prey, pull apart and
Consume every shred for his evening’s ration
What he holds now fragile, dear between fingers and thumb
With a sweep of his broad hand later he’ll discard each
last useless crumb... |
READ
MORE HERE
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The
Black Dress ~
by Leonora Record
| No
more mouthy nit-picking, no more squiggling and swaying
in her seat, no more loud lilting laughter and no more guilty
glances. No more of that stupid woman. No more. I walked
down the stairs and into her studio. Stupid paintings. Piles
of stupid sketches.
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READ
MORE HERE
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