]] and other 9/11 Works (Part 2: ]], pages 6-8)
The sky is falling from the sky where they stand
hushed and glimmering in the sky.
The skies are so very sad. Scared, sad skies.
Sad day when I look up. I look up and the sky is
filled with anxious people, trapped workers screaming
in the sky for help.
In the trees are the ground, names of citizens,
The moon shines down on the road and I ache,
like in the sky the moon had a family. The sky so very
scared and sad.
Who else knows what it’s like to wonder where
they’re going, and when they’re going to make it
where they can live happily again?
Type, “Fukushima.” “Afghanistan.” “Katrina.”
Like a cloud of concrete, the paper faces
around my heart. On Monday we had to go that
All the paper peeling all around, I couldn’t
conceive of the world before. Now I just wish it
Type, “Haiti.” “Iraq.” “Libya.” “Tibet.”
No one else knows how I’m feeling, blissful in a
bright white line across the lobby.
On Tuesday, I will cross with a pile into the lair
of the day before.
For not a day goes by.
I could barely afford a small plane in the face,
let alone a million tears in the empty wallets of
On Tuesday, I will plant some of our lives
stripped of all of the day before.
Somehow, as if we can be all that we all so
deeply believe in. Ourselves. Once again.