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Here's a poem from Kim Jensen's stark new book, Bread Alone.
Song of Qana
Thirteen narrow streets
Thirteen lines of white
sheets. Thirteen children of dust
in the dust.
********Just then, the jets.
Thirteen houses
of stone. Thirteen of cement.
Thirteen deferred
from next until next
********Just then, the jets.
Thirteen from the South.
Thirteen from the North. Thirteen
********from the West.
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