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in this issue
Kirmen Uribe
PostwarIn October geese passed the pillaged laps.
It dawns on the children, and they give chase.
'Wedlock, wedlock,' they yell running.
'The two at the head are newlyweds,'
a little girl says to her younger sister,
'and the rest of the flock are guests at the wedding.'
In October geese passed the pillaged laps.
The children give chase.
On the wet cobbles their bare feet
anticipate the hard winter.
'Wedlock, wedlock.'
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