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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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AFTERMATH
Cathy Porter
A light rain patrols the city,
keeping watch over tempers
that have been tempered
far too long.
Moonlight serenades
are a thing of the past;
survival is the only song
left to sing.
Some still keep vigils on half-porches,
staring into the night sky, waiting;
others light endless cigarettes
and blow smoke rings in the dark
that become larger
as they stretch to the heavens,
before disappearing
altogether.