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	<title>loss Archives - Elephants Never</title>
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	<title>loss Archives - Elephants Never</title>
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<site xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">135387410</site>	<item>
		<title>Mourning Routine</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/mourning-routine/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Feb 2020 21:31:29 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[camping]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[feb 10 2020]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[flash fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mourning]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[routine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[shivarjoyce]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2609</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by ShivaRJoyce I was always the one to wake first. Some early, ungodly hour. It wasn’t because I was a so-called morning person but more that I loathed sleep for robbing me of my day and time. Some mornings the air still had a frosty chill to it that hadn’t been there the evening before. Boiling water on the gas <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/mourning-routine/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/mourning-routine/">Mourning Routine</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2609</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Lost My Voice</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/lost-my-voice/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 09 Dec 2019 12:45:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Rumbling Rhymes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dec 9 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[doctor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[insurance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[joan mcnerney]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[light verse]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lost my voice]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[searching]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[voice]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2355</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Joan McNerney Around the house under the bed,on top of book shelves,perhaps flung over my closet door,or hidden inside cubby holes. Have to look for it at all my usual haunts.Check out the library, ask my pharmacist,circle gas stations and stomp up downthat damn old supermarket. Not anywhere&#8230; geez this is tiringbetter sit down and think.When did I last <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/lost-my-voice/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/lost-my-voice/">Lost My Voice</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2355</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Alone on the Bus</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/alone-on-the-bus/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 18 Nov 2019 10:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bus]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[drabble]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[flash fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mj christie]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nov 18 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[teddy bear]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2248</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by MJ Christie One ear. One eye. Tattered arms. Tattered legs. Re-sutured seams preserved the life within. Ground-in dirt rouged his cheeks. There was an odour your mum had tried to wash away without success. “Shall we leave Ted at home today?” “No.” You hugged him to your chest. He loved riding the bus. Mum gave in, as always. If <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/alone-on-the-bus/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/alone-on-the-bus/">Alone on the Bus</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2248</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>IVF</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/ivf/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Oct 2019 11:00:34 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[anuja ghimire]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[baptism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[flash fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ivf]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[oct 14 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pregnancy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pretend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pretends]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2097</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Anuja Ghimire Agnes left the prayer hall before the pianist returned to her seat and the happy people who stood up to applaud the middle-aged woman noticed. She needed to wash the baby’s face from her eyes. Sharon had carried him like a prize. He wiggled his feet near the sparkling water, looked at Agnes, and smiled. And Sharon <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/ivf/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/ivf/">IVF</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2097</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>My Grandpa Knew Mr. Parkinson</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/my-grandpa-knew-mr-parkinson/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Oct 2019 11:00:27 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bojana stojcic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[forget]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[forgets]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[funeral]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grandfather]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memorial]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memory]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[oct 14 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parkinson]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2094</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Bojana Stojcic “Let me help you, Grandfather,” said a voice to the old man as he stumbled walking away from the table. Grandpa nodded back, put on his hat he wore with style and, with a profound mistrust of anything new, left the room, unsure about where they had met. “Even elephants forget,” Grandpa joked. What he didn’t see <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/my-grandpa-knew-mr-parkinson/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/my-grandpa-knew-mr-parkinson/">My Grandpa Knew Mr. Parkinson</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2094</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Blueberry Waffles &#038; A Side of Poignancy</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/blueberry-waffles-a-side-of-poignancy/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Oct 2019 11:00:26 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[blueberry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[father]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memorial]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[neel trivedi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[oct 14 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[waffles]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2091</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Neel Trivedi Chip Taylor opened his eyes as a shrieking sound pierced through his ears and painfully made its way to his head. He cursed himself for setting the sound so loud as he reached over and turned the alarm off his phone. As he checked his messages, he looked at the day. It&#8217;s Sunday, he thought. He paused <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/blueberry-waffles-a-side-of-poignancy/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/blueberry-waffles-a-side-of-poignancy/">Blueberry Waffles &#038; A Side of Poignancy</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2091</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Hibernation</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/hibernation/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Sep 2019 10:30:55 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Trunkated Tales]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[developer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[flash fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hibernation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mountain lion]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[real estate]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sept 30 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[william falo]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2031</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by William Falo With gear packed and a rifle strapped to my back, I headed to mountain lion country in the snow-covered hills. It wasn’t long before my muscles ached. Dark clouds formed on the horizon after I huffed and puffed up the first hill. The approaching storm looked worse than they predicted. At the summit of the hill, I <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/hibernation/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/hibernation/">Hibernation</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2031</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>candy floss</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/candy-floss/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 30 Sep 2019 10:30:29 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Rumbling Rhymes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[candy floss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[desire]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rhythm & bones lit press]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sept 30 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sex]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[tianna g. hansen]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=2037</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Tianna G. Hansen hip bones become butter beneath your tongue // melted, salty veins are rope lassoed to the rhythm of my // heartbeat //i mold to the contour of your hands // whipped sugar &#38; creamcandy floss between your teeth // inhaled, sweet what will remain once you’ve had your fill — a hungering, vacant hole where you used to // <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/candy-floss/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/candy-floss/">candy floss</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2037</post-id>	</item>
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		<title>Somewhere Separation</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/somewhere-separation/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Sep 2019 12:00:43 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Rumbling Rhymes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[gun reform]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[gun violence]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pain]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rickey rivers jr.]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[separation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sept 16 2019]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[somewhere]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=1950</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Rickey Rivers Jr. Somewhere a man is hiding.He&#8217;s missing a bullet. Somewhere a mother is crying.She&#8217;s missing a son. The mother may recover for she is wounded as well.Not from outside in like her son.The pain shoots from inside out like the gun. The man remains on the run. The mother prays for his capture like one who expects <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/somewhere-separation/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/somewhere-separation/">Somewhere Separation</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">1950</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>At the grave of your death, I smile</title>
		<link>https://elephantsnever.com/at-the-grave-of-your-death-i-smile/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andre]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Wed, 10 Jul 2019 17:32:49 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Rumbling Rhymes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[elisabeth horan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[jokes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mortality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mourning]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[odd list odd house odd me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[smile]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://elephantsnever.com/?p=1739</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>by Elisabeth Horan For why not; God’s been joking with us All the while; He whispers placation In our ears, plants lust for the sinner’s Alcoholic slide, leaves dust where a Mother, her child, she should find. My loss, and melancholy, were it not For our friendship, would be funny, Really, I laugh at the nose of death &#8211; Pointy <a class="read-more" href="https://elephantsnever.com/at-the-grave-of-your-death-i-smile/">Read More</a></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://elephantsnever.com/at-the-grave-of-your-death-i-smile/">At the grave of your death, I smile</a> appeared first on <a href="https://elephantsnever.com">Elephants Never</a>.</p>
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">1739</post-id>	</item>
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