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Corey Mesler
We’re Going to War
On Nickelodeon, the Rugrats
are wrestling with some
new invention, another talking
doll run amok. On ESPN
they’re studying the NCAA
brackets. My Tigers
have a tough first rounder, a
tougher draw.
On TCM Gene Kelly and Leslie
Caron are dancing in
Paris. And in the middle section
of our newspaper there’s
a story about the Dixie Chicks,
who had the audacity to
question America. On the front
page of this same newspaper
are large black letters—
they must be a foot tall—
like the slab in 2001. They tell
another story, a bleak one,
a story about a dark forest and
a way in but no way out.
It’s the story I cannot read.
It’s the one without end, without
surcease. And my daughter
is sick this morning, lying on the
couch, pale as the breast of a gull,
blankets clutched tightly
around her delicate throat.
Want to respond to this poem? Do it here!
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