Bomb Squad

Start again
Start over
Four cases of Crylon in a black backpack
    latex gloves
A sketch on a piece of notebook paper
torn out of an old
    school folder.
The night air cold on her cheek
    A fluttering knot in her chest
And the downstairs cat
Mrs. Coen's cat
Walks across the street between parked cars
    in the moonlight
A blueblack shine on a darkblack street
    and the entire sky open up, horizon to horizon
and everything becomes clear.


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