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. . . . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
. . . . . In dedication to
. . . . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm everyone who was lost
. . . . . or lost someone
. . . . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm September 11, 2001:
. . . . . Anada 431
. . . . . . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm "Mourning"
by X-tabai
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
09/30/01
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Tuesday Mourning
My cat sleeps on the television.
She sleeps above a blood-soaked city
choking on a speechless requiem,
sleeps as others never will again.
Her breath is slow and even, unchanged
By swift pale clouds raining dusty death.
Her sky is no wider from the loss
of two buildings in another world.
My cat wakes, turns over and sees me
staring awestruck at the swelling loss.
Her mouth opens in a silent yawn.
Mine has no more words in it than hers.
Wednesday Mourning
I
So hard, remembering to use past tense
for people who are no longer present.
“He isñ no, wasÖ they wereÖ” They are no more.
II
Buildings lie like bleached, shattered bones,
crystal cages for survivors
unable to scream through the glass.
III
Every word of war is another death-
scream smuggled like a knife through cold, dry lips.
Every call for vengeance is another
nail in a great, dark communal coffin.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
. . .------
* * ------ by X-tabai (c) anada.net 09/30/01
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mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
