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Hospital Sill

Hospital Sill "On the sill today the sun's pure white. Usually it's gold," says Nell, propped in a smock, all frills, sipping tea turning cold as she braids white ram horns of hair high and tight to the sides of her skull. "On the gold days like this I warm my hands for hours at a time on this sill. "Yesterday, the doctor said someone should paint me. A still life that's what he said." Donal Mahoney

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Book: Shattered Sighs