first smoke against blue sky
then the TV goes blank
I see it again and again
the plane, at left
flying too low
as the city watches

I close my eyes
I don’t see the buildings fall
I don’t see people running
I don’t see the plane, a fireball
hitting and hitting and hitting

the building shakes

I don’t see her at her desk
half-finished cup of coffee, ignored
I don’t see him step off the elevator
with blood on his sleeve
I don’t see them on their cell phones
saying goodbye

I don’t see the torn metal
or the giant sky

I don’t see him leap
I don’t see her burn
I don’t see them walking over bridges
walking over bridges
out of the city
covered in ash

Written by

Occasional poet. Writer of sad essays. Novelist. Birder and amateur photographer. I enjoy trees.

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