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Noseblind
In my terror I scratched—nail into nostril—parodic to the film Poltergeist, dread reflected in the mirror—my expression muted by the dead shower’s neutralizing fog. Blood only visible on my fingers, the pennyscent was just imagined. Anything chemic was gone; I’d been defected by our global grippe. *** When John Milton went blind (presumably from Onan’s…