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Emergency I wake to a sound like cats purring, bend the blinds and squint, a taste of metal. Red lights, no sirens— the house across the street is burning. I had been dreaming of an old woman whose eyes, swollen and dried as nutshells, I soothed with oil. Now the door of her house breathes cold air and her poppies belong to anybody, so I picked them. Who am I that they should open and cry out to me? 48 ...

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