NOTES SCRIBBLED ON THE BACK PAGE OF THE NEW YORK TIMES, SEPTEMBER 12, 2001
once
this
heart was
spongy soft
pomegrante red
sweet with healthy juice, fortitude
and
once …
yesterday …
this muscle
trembled with hopeful
anticipation, knowing that
once
your
plane landed
we could laugh
beats would synchronize
tucked together, we’d save the world
the
phone
rang once
you told me
there was no power
left, no way to kill the bastards
once
this
evil
had taken
hold in the air, clouds
of angels descended, but they
could
not
stop you
or Satan
or anyone else
from this inexplicable fall
from
grace
into
grassy fields
splattered with wings and
blood and all of God’s intentions
once
this
heart was
full of you
now it is empty
waiting for the pain
to
be
erased
negated
… tell me it’s a dream …
by words from somewhere
that I can hear above this roar
of
rage
as I
read the Times
once upon a time
our hearts were immaculately
pure
safe
open
trusting but
that was yesterday
today, all is smouldering ash
that
will
soon choke
everyone
unless you come back
so we can start over again
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