The explosion imparts a hastened reenactment:
A trailing stem,
spat toward the heavens,
ripens to a heavy bloom.
Pinpricks bleed openly,
fill and fade.
They die,
as quickly as they're birthed
to melt down the mural of the sky.
A torched rain
flames, falls, flickers to mute.
It peppers the land
with a quiet memorial.
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