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	<title>tongues of the ocean &#187; prose</title>
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	<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org</link>
	<description>words and writing from the islands</description>
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		<title>The Lovers</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2012/04/the-lovers/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2012/04/the-lovers/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 15 Apr 2012 04:01:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2012 february issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Helen Klonaris]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=3297</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Repent, said the billboards at street corners and lights up and down the city. Repent. We shaded our eyes from the glare of the word. We pulled our straw hats and tams and fedoras down over our secret failings. We could not look each other in the eye, afraid our secrets would be seen in the shadows of green and hazel, brown and black flecks in our irises.

Every morning a different group staked out the city center, yelling at drivers to save themselves. Handing out leaflets that announced the truth. And the horror that awaited us if we lived without it.

On a morning in December, the leaflets pictured the Bird Boy, and beneath it the words “What is not of God is of the Devil”.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Saving Rupa</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/07/saving-rupa/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/07/saving-rupa/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 24 Jul 2011 04:02:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2011 June Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writers on writers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2892</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Well I dreaming about that boy again. He still trying to catch me and I still running. Then I start to sprout feathers. Is bird I turning into bird, oui. My toenails grow out hard and long, curving over like talons. My arms turn into wings and I am covered with big, grey feathers from the top of my greyhead to my foot.
<font color=white>.</font>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Six-Word Stories</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/04/six-word-stories/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/04/six-word-stories/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 10 Apr 2011 04:01:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2011 February Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bredren and sistren]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[special feature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Amanda Lewis]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Barbara Jenkins]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Christi Cartwright]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[DaMaris Hill]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jaime Lee Loy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Michelle Isava]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Obediah Michael Smith]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Renatta Laundry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sonia Farmer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Thomas Armstrong]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vahni Capildeo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vashti Bowlah]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2728</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Writers constantly challenge themselves to say the most they can in the briefest of sentences. There have been entire contests devoted to stories told in just six words, entire anthologies of six-word memoirs or six word stories from individual groups of people. These stories are tiny testaments to the individual, fleeting human experience. Now, it is our turn.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/04/six-word-stories/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>John Glenn Orbits the Earth</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/02/john-glenn-orbits-the-earth/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/02/john-glenn-orbits-the-earth/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 27 Feb 2011 04:02:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2011 February Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bredren and sistren]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jody Rathgeb]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2636</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Everyone thought Hammy and I would end up together, probably because we were the same age and we both took to schooling as we got older. But it was Penn I had my eye on, even back when they were playing astronaut. Hamilton was nice, but he’s the one who took all that play-acting to heart. He wanted whatever was out there. Penn’s future was tied to North Caicos, and so was mine. Even Anne Bonny wanted a man and a baby. I never minded staying here, and this restaurant, our family, island life —it’s enough.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2011/02/john-glenn-orbits-the-earth/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>For As Long As I Remember</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/for-as-long-as-i-remember/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/for-as-long-as-i-remember/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 28 Nov 2010 04:02:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 October Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Margot Bethel]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2483</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I fantasized about cutting it short. I fantasized about cutting it off, exposing my scalp to the elements, liberating my smothered thoughts, reeling them in, through the suffocated skin, to the surface, to light.

Far away in another land was a woman who had done it already. She was a warrior and a heroine and a role model. She was a heretic and a freak and a superstar all at once. 

“I’ll do it for you,” my brother offered when I told him what I had in mind—to free my mind, my head, from tangles, from the heaviness of womanhood. He had the equipment, was a man with permission to cut. Cut it. Cut his. Cut mine.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/for-as-long-as-i-remember/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Jesus I’m Naked</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/jesus-im-naked/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/jesus-im-naked/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 21 Nov 2010 04:02:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 October Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Deborah Thompson]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/jesus-i%e2%80%99m-naked/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I reach under my skirt, remove my girdle and tuck it under the pillow. It is best to get rid of it first, in case he tries to undress me. “Girdle too hard fa man ta take off”. I look into the cup of gin expecting to see Kiki there. Nothing. A year ago I didn’t need a girdle. A year ago my 19 year old belly held tight above my jeans. Then one night the condom broke- that’s what Rico said just before he told me to go and sit over a bucket of steaming water. But later my belly swell, Tisha came out and Rico was gone. After that I wore the tight black armour whenever I went out, like a police vest- protecting. I can only be penetrated if I remove it. I do. I remove the girdle and now I am lying on my back with my belly sucked in so that the mechanic will not know that I ever needed the girdle.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/jesus-im-naked/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Hand That God Dealt</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/the-hand-that-god-dealt/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/the-hand-that-god-dealt/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 21 Nov 2010 04:01:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 October Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Emille Hunt]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2454</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[“Well in the name of the triune God, Jesus Christ,” started Bishop Browne. “We are here to protest what is about to be a decay in the moral fiber of our country. This government is allowing a band of heathens to come into this country and parade downtown and turn it into a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah.” The crowd cheered in unison as if they had prepared for and practiced this moment. Bishop Brown continued, “Can you imagine how downtown will be when these evil people arrive. Man and man gone be walking downtown, holding hand, kissing, rubbing each other up. Is that the message we want to send the school children, the world, that we are a country of man lovers?”
<font color=white>.</font>]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/11/the-hand-that-god-dealt/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Coal</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/10/coal/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/10/coal/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 24 Oct 2010 04:02:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 October Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bredren and sistren]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[special feature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Olive Senior]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2344</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It wasn’t like they were doing anything useful like Queen Victoria of her grandfather’s time who wore a crown and had held that big thing they called a sceptre in her hand like a club and roared at the plantation owners, her eyes bulging: ‘Let my people go’. And they had had to comply with her wishes and free the slaves, and go home to England or wherever with their tails between their legs. Now that was ruler! So Doll’s grandfather had said. The mightiest the world had ever seen, just like King Solomon the Wise. ]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/10/coal/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Drinking Water</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/08/drinking-water/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/08/drinking-water/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 29 Aug 2010 04:02:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 June Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[special feature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[written word]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Janice Lynn Mather]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2278</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She was at the sink. Behind us, I could hear the tub filling, water splashing into water. She had started to undress already; her shirt was on the counter. I had never seen my mother in only her bra before. For a moment, I forgot fear, and was embarrassed.

“What happen?”

She pointed at the toilet. I didn’t understand. It was filled with blood. I said “Are you dying?” It was a stupid thing to say.

She pointed at the bathtub. I turned to look at it.

It was full of red, too. The tap, still on, gushed red. Red rushed into the tub and splashed up onto the lower tiles. This was not from my mother, this red, this—blood. I looked at her; she was shaking. I looked up at the ceiling, its ordinary white.]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/08/drinking-water/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Into the Black</title>
		<link>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/08/into-the-black/</link>
		<comments>http://tonguesoftheocean.org/2010/08/into-the-black/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 22 Aug 2010 04:02:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>webmaster</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010 June Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[special feature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keisha Lynne Ellis]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://tonguesoftheocean.org/?p=2249</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[He creeps into the black. She is too enraptured, at first, to realise that he has come. She has underestimated him, his ability to find her and the relentlessness of his pursuit. She is relaxed and open. The Devil grabs her by this serenity; takes a fistful of it into his clawed, scaly hands and ties it into knots and tangles. The blackness becomes harsh and cold. It is shadow and gloom. The velvet becomes Velcro. Rough and sticky.

The Devil is a million little hooks sunk into her soft peace and clarity.]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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