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My Father’s Bomber Jacket
My father’s bomber
jacket still hangs on
a peg beside a squadron photo.
Once I tried it on
but found that it was
far too small.
After all
when he wore it
he was not much more
than a boy –
in his tin machine
with his instruments
& weapons
alone &
far from
land
way out above the Pacific
as the waves beneath
moved like cards
being shuffled.
© Bob Orr
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