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1983 Manual for Nuclear Aftermath (Poem)


Clarakore

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In the middle of April

the last freeze has passed

along the frontier

questions are asked.

Is it time to dig up

rifles we buried

in the back of our yard?

Are satellites watching?

Are drones fast approaching?

Does the flag mean anything?

Not as much as it used to

and at the same time

more than ever before.

As a child I worried

that they dropped the bomb

they told me in class

that I should be scared.

Thirty years later

alone with you at night

central air turning off

only the sounds of cicadas

a car going down the road.

In the middle of April

the last freeze has passed

could we still pretend it's winter

and hold each other still?

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