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An Iraqi Sunrise
Alix Womack
it was on a night
of sticky suffocation
that you got your assignment
breathing the
granular air
you
peered through
this
viscous atmosphere
in silent
preparation
you muscled through
the molten gelatin
towards your T55
as the sun began
to ignite the sand
from
underneath
the
blood spattered sky
you
could see
an Apache’s
hazy silhouette
the blades cutting
the desolate air
into muted
slices
with unclouded eyes
you looked past
the boiling mist
and beyond the ragged
strips of sky
before you
slipped
between the mirages
and were gone