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Poem from the Homeland
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
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29 Poem from the Homeland Rose Bowl, 2006 As she trills the last note, there’s smoke. Each song now taken literally. When the firecrackers burst, we leap to our relief. We clap, put our fingers in our teeth. Then the B-1 Lancer in the twilight. Drum-roll of the turbofans, their heat. 30 This page intentionally left blank. ...