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Poetry

The Sky is Brown

Weam Namou

My hair is white
from the sand
that burns my eyes
if I don’t wear glasses.

The water kept in tanks
is scorching hot due to the
120 degree temperatures
all summer long. 

The water from
the well is bitter and salty
and needs boiling prior to
swallowing.

Last time it rained
was nine months ago,
the time it takes for a woman
to carry full term.

Weather is so bad here
it makes me want to vomit.

Baghdad is not the same.
One never sees a star
Sky is dark brown
No gardens
Just tensions

I came here to interpret for the U.S. Army.
The economy at home is bad.
The pay here is good.
I could die at any minute.

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