Someone told them not to evacuate
Smoke and fire gushing from the wounds of
Tower 1
…
It was an accident after all, wasn’t it?
Not to worry, Mom.
I’m okay, Dad.
…
The phone, still attached to the wall
But the line so quickly dead
The world collapsing on itself
…
We let go of her forever
That last hope of innocence
Smothered in a ton of ash.
(Previously published in Some Words: A Place For Poetry, June 2003; Poetry.com, Sep 2003)
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