“They’ve tried every [bomb] they can think of, over and over and over and over. Rabbits would run across there, and they would be on fire.” – Ken Case

West was where the forces weren’t,
Spat like dust in the mouth,
Earth to earth.

The name repeats and rolls the plain,
the letters scatter,
lost in hide.

We cross the point afield.
And how unfamiliar the hooves must feel
On that hot glass!

Will is the Books Editor of APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIAL and lives in St. Louis.

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