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The Fall




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David Kertis

It was the day the dead
fought in the air
with the dead. The sky here
was far away, was blank, lovely
as a blue globe,
as glass. I listened
to the news, I watched it all,
the screen like
the mind’s eye, showing it
again
and again.

Part burned, part was ground
down into powder
as the world fell. The world
had been built
out of paper
and the flickering of power.
The power lasted long enough
for a few urgent words.
The paper
was light enough
to survive on the wind, was found
all over
the city for days,
and nothing
could be read in order.

wtc
©Geraldine Pontius, 2002







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