(Here’s a timely one by Alice Rydel)
Sick of the anniversary
But can’t stop watching TV
Where were you? Where was I?
Hugging Wanda.
Nine Eleven
Nurses called back to work
The hospital needs to prepare
I hear her screaming on the phone
And rush out to get her
“My daughter! My daughter!”
When I tell the story
My arms contort
Around her invisible body
Her head is on my shoulder
We go back to the hospital
In the ER a stretcher holds a solid white statue
Then a dark hole opens
Gasping for air
Chairs ripped out of the auditorium
To make room for beds
Never filled
Waiting for news
About Wanda’s daughter
I hear cheering and laughter
But my colleague looks sick
“Her daughter left a voicemail.
Everyone cheered.
I couldn’t tell her the rest of the message.”
Still hugging Wanda
Beautiful. Thank you Alice and Harry.
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You capture something in this poem, Alice. Conflicted and touching. Thanks!
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