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“The Heart”
by Michael Patrick McSweeney

IN the AFTERNOON we watched an explosion open its jaws    & roar out into the street as legs (old, young, fair, aged,    short ones resting on the shoulders of a father)    pumped forward on the sun-streaked road.    Our eyes rose in confusion--through the smoke,    to the severed hand twitching on the red-stained pavement.
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