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Blood Bond.

 Mohammed told the German doctor Ich habe angst
 . For her, bleeding, or for himself? But the doctor wouldn't
report this.
She didn't know how to do it and he didn't know how not to.
And conversely. She was one in a million.
At the Croissant Rouge a Sister of Mercy held her hand un deux trois
quatre
 till she sank. She woke with him on a cot beside her eating the
biscottes
 Sister had left.
His pidgin English, her pidgin French... her body spanned nations, the
world's great religions-- now they'd understand. Now peace
would reign. 

from A Selected History of Her Heart

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Author:Oles, Carole
Publication:Prairie Schooner
Article Type:Poem
Date:Mar 22, 2010
Words:153
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