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The Fiddlehead
Atlantic Canada's International Literary Journal
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Elizabeth Brewster
Moving to Moss Lake
We arrived at Moss Lake the autumn I was eight years old
Alone in Hotel Bedroom
I sit on the edge of a bed with pink bedspread
End of the World
At eight years old
Poem for the Year of Faith
Faith is not less faith because it fluctuates
In the Venus Restaurant
Sitting opposite these two young persons,
Atlas
Somebody told me about two men
August Afternoon
Summer is almost over now. The fountain
God's Grace and Not my Works
God's grace and not my works
Jane
A notable housewife in her time was Jane.
Sonnet
I thought of you whom once I thought I loved
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Current Issue:
No. 301