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This night a dark wind blows, cuts
through the clacky trees, edges set
one against another.

Somewhere a branch bends. Somewhere else
one breaks, the sound like a shot, a hot light
in the shadows.

I hug my sorry self and it’s my own bones I feel.
I grit my teeth and squint to make out
what lights are on the horizon, but I can’t tell
if something’s looming or receeding and
which means what or what’s worse.

The screen door’s come loose. It goes
bang, bang, bang in the wind.

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