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HERE, THE SPARROWS WERE, ALL ALONG by Chelsea Dingman

                                                                            Every minute or so, a hallelujah dies in someone’s mouth. Every minute or so, a gunshot.               A ceasefire. A tire shreds                             on the highway, & pieces flit like sparrows across the sky. Silly me. I thought                                                                             we were here to live.               The garden’s hallelujahs: tulips & rhododendrons, alive in the ground. We expect so much […]

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