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Nazie’s whispers, farhiz, farhiz, before falling asleep had availed nothing—the laughing demons sneaked into Flora’s belly, pinched the baby’s bottom and pulled his ears. The sharp edge of the knife…
All things I can endure, save one.
The bare, blank room where is no sun;
The parcelled hours; the pallet hard;
The dreary faces here within;
The outer women’s cold regard;
The Pastor’s iterated “sin”…