Robert Gregory: …something solid and permanent/ just up the street disintegrates in distance and silence,/ and a roaring wind from the unheard blast comes/ running past us with the ragged torn fragments/ of paper and skin…
Anna Bálint: I heard the plane./ First the drone/ and then the roar of it,/ the rest a confusion./ Sudden heat and screams,/ a rush of fire, black smoke,/ fire and smoke/ rushing into my lungs/ as everything/ everything/ gave way…
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