What we were once, two words,
we are no more, taken in
When ten layers absorb
the shadows of our predecessor shapes.
Purple bruises bleed through
the buried concrete
Where one-hundred shouted
stories slid down into
a waiting mouth of obtuse angles.
Vague numbers now,
we follow and ask,
Why one-thousand labors
couldn’t gird us against not-
birthing gusts, their reverse alchemy,
aching to prove
How countless precious lines
can turn testily from true
geometry’s parallel paths, and seek
an improbable calculus of chaotic drips,
those splats that trace a figure
Who in the flash of flame
sees his distinctions
have lavishly become
obliterated.
Our tomorrow will know
what our today’s forgotten.
5 comments:
from the very first lines i guessed this is the 3rd piece about the september11 event...
your illustration is so vivid and impressive!
i always love it when sicentific images can render powerful emotions... like the one you created here:
... an improbable calculus of chaotic drips,...
the ending is a wow!
This is extremely strong and captures dread and terror so vividly. The whole poem is masterfully written, well worthy of its purpose. A brave piece.
To fully grasp the September 11th event is hard for someone living outside USA, I think. But I remember the shock and where I was the very moment I first heard about the event.
Brilliant, I can only echo the comments above :)
This has for me the tonal echoes of chaos. Well done.
Thanks all.
Jenny, when it happened I was on the opposite coast of the country, so this was a bit of a challenge to write about. My experience was channeled through the media coverage of the events. My friend, whose paintings my poems were written for, had his art studio in one of the towers and experienced all of this firsthand.
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