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CIVILIAN SONNET A cyclone fence divided an open field from an open field. The runway bloomed with heat. We smoked inside your car, the vinyl seats sweating beneath our thighs. Your broken windshield fragmented the sky. You turned to me, as if to sing an aria, but your voice was lost in roar and bray—an engine’s jet exhaust propelling the plane above us. Meteors drifted like dandelion seed in the cold black I wished was heaven. This was before the war went on without you. Now the wind abrades the dunes, then stills—your face, a flag gone slack. Night falls. I close your picture in a drawer. I know I should feel sad, but I’m afraid.  ...

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