How can we live in peace
when nails of sleet tap war on our window?
Looking out
was I a fool to think we were ever safe, ever could be?
The walking dead of nuclear winter
a creature of the night all those years, lying in wait
alarming us with a sneeze
What does one say to a demon when it sneezes?
I hug my dog
Listen to our breath, the night, clock, ice maker, tinnitus
The silence of bodies in a ditch
— By Girard Tournesol
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