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May 2013
My dry, swollen lids flicker open
a gust of sulfur and ash dries my tongue
clogs my narrow throat with chalk.
The concrete under my ribs is warm
still vibrating from the detonation
wet with gasoline or oil or...my blood?
My hand reaches to brace myself
I collapse gasping as the pain ignites
my flesh, and all I can see is meat,
a mangled sinewy stump where an elbow
my book-carrying elbow, had been.
Black smoke belches and plumes
the street that was pregnant with screaming
now still as a newborn birthed dead.
Sirens shriek, television crews scuttle
in hopes of burning our blood into film, but
my skull falls back, eyes roll, lashes fall, and
as my skin drains of heat and fluid, I realize
all I wanted was to go to school today.
That's all I wanted.

That's all.
Written by
Alex Apples  United States
(United States)   
597
 
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