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The Fiddlehead
Atlantic Canada's International Literary Journal
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Finlay, Triny
blue
out of it, out of the blue, he finds me.
boy
he licks the divot of my upper lip.
red
you could wait all winter for the lure
girl
she hands me her green sneakers, laces loosed
we fight rancid winds all summer
we fight rancid winds all summer.
Current Issue:
No. 301