There is an immense rain and nothing is saluting nobody
My father’s ankles were shined bare and I reasoned it
had something to do with going to work It was feared
I would become knock-kneed, but I was frightened more by the prospect
of war Our substitute teacher, who was also the soda jerk
had to have his friend’s brains removed from his ear by surgery
The night we first bombed Iraq, I had just returned from scuba diving
class, having been informed repeatedly of the myriad
ways I might die Our babysitter drank perfume until she
died Though the rain stopped, the news kept “pouring in”
When my finger was crushed by the weight of the canon I refused to scream
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