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The Soul

By Kate Farrell Poetry

for my father Having pictured the soul as a kind of private moon that hovered invisibly above a person’s shoulder, when my mother said a man and woman’s love for one another could bring their child’s soul down from heaven to be born, I saw it as a cloud-like orb slipping down from the vicinity…

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The Reflection

By Kate Farrell Poetry

An unexpected reflection of myself in a passing window glances this way then after a quick double-take recognizes me. Like me, she’s caught by surprise; no time for the split second preparations that tend to precede looking in a mirror, or to hide the disappointment in her eyes, her sense that had we met incognito…

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