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What if a round of steel flung
Smiled
Rather than, or a bomb
Dropped
Broke into down—the
Engines of revenge turning coat?
What if this madness were the
Crutches
Of a circus emperor
Savoring
His New Year’s tricks,
Terror’s neck being
Strung?
What if for all time widows’
And orphans’ horrors were gone,
And the days to come
Sing
Not of ground burnt but of
Wise fools and gleeful
Gardens,
War
An unmourned kiss from
Withered lips?
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