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War Photographer By Carol Ann Duffy Poem Analysis In his darkroom he is finally alone with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows The only light is red and softly glows as though this were a church and he a priest preparing to intone a Mass Belfast Beirut Phnom Penh All flesh is grass He has a job to do Solutions slop in trays beneath his hands which did not tremble then though seem to now Rural England Home again to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel to fields which dont explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat
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