Over

I watch the speech on the television

While I fold laundry

His shirts his socks all of him

folded back into my drawers.

The president looks good tonight

And I go to bed poking him in bed

Saying softly the war is over now.

And because he is still asleep and

Because his dreams stretch so far

Like an atlas or a long set of orders

To Iraq to Afghanistan to the Horn of Africa

And to that look I gave him in the kitchen

He whispers which one?

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