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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 4, December 2018

Maeve O’Sullivan
Dublin, Ireland


I used to hide out in the Wendy house at the end of our long back garden. It was red and blue and yellow: the summer sun streamed through windows which weren’t proper windows at all. I had handed over the six pounds of my First Holy Communion money to buy it, not long after the white dress came off. That space was all mine, not like my parents’ house, that other place where my five siblings and I also lived. These soft walls and door were the first boundaries I was able to put up, creating an early sense of privacy: as succulent as the Wexford strawberries we bought on the way home from holidays, as sweet as the sugar we put on them, as rich as the cream we lashed on top. Those red strawberries! That blue sky! That yellow sun!

first autumn storm:
my balcony flags
still releasing prayers



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