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Before Their Eyes
By Allan Peterson

People in the lobby for breakfast are watching
ducks shot down from a cloud
of their own making above a marsh in Wisconsin
are mentioning their trips and biscuits
their far flung points of origin while the floating bodies
are fetched by black dogs
The dead and the living pass through each other
right before their eyes
their breaths and neutrinos hover a moment
then plummet like teals

Stickman End of Poem

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