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Kathleen A Keena

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Member Since: Oct, 2004

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September Friday
by Kathleen A Keena

Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Kathleen A Keena
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           >> View all 260

We were the combustibles
of the World Trade Center.

September Friday

We were the combustibles
of the World Trade Center.
We were the alibis
for death.
We were the first to die.

There was no time to decide
in one moment why
flying in the sky,
that sky became
our atmospheric graves.

We were the ammunition
for the anniliation that followed
the plan nose crashing
our bodies igniting
a giant gray cloud
bursting human rain.

We were not
consulted or selected,
merely in the way.
Like talcolm
blown
on an autumn day.

Our ashes lingered
on the skin
of our witnesses.
For the reporters
who filmed,
our gray powder
carved out
their human eyes.

They wore our deaths
on the lips,
their tongues.
In their ears.
Under their skin.

The narrow stairwell tricked
our firemen
who climbed the stairs
to become
dust.

We were the campfire
that bright clear day
Stories of blaze
became kindling.

That was us
you were breathing
and swallowing whole
some of us jumped
to welcome death
waiting at ground zero.




Kathy Keena
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Reviewed by anne cunningham 10/6/2004
"gray powder carved out their human eyes," what better way to say what we wish we never had to say or experience. you most certainly captured the way this event colored all our lives. welcome to the den. -anne
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