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The Fiddlehead
Atlantic Canada's International Literary Journal
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Jocelyn Hollis
Poem
Let no sharp prick or prong of time
The Ballad of the Drowned Child
The winter sun had just begun
The Road to Love
The road to love lies through privation
Old Loves Fall Away
Old loves fall away
Regret
So many men are names, that once were men:
Discontent
Man was made to strive, but woman not
Current Issue:
No. 301