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2 Poems

When Columbia broke into a burning rain over Louisiana, fell in pieces into a thousand pastures and backyards, my uncle joined the search party. It was not a rescue mission. It couldn’t be.

Dissipate

I walked the dog when she was at work. She was a pilot. Well, an astronaut actually. An alternate for an alternate. She flew to Florida or Texas every few weeks for conditioning, in case a bunch of astronauts got the flu...