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Hard Fruit

This morning, when I told you
that I’d dreamt

the theocracy had been declared—
and the internet was down

and it was no longer safe
to say ‘freedom’

in a song or slogan,
or even on the phone—

you just nodded
and said you’d woken,

sweating and shaking,
after dreaming of breaking

all your front teeth on a hard,
red apple from Kashmir.

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