9-1-1

I forgot the taste of reality

On brick-dusted lips because

I can’t speak the truth.

It’s too hard to say:

 

I know the shirt you wore that day

Or I can still smell the baked pavement

Or I want to go back and throw myself in the flames.

So, I’ll just simply say

 

Grey

 

Grey sunset

Grey sunset in the back of two black buildings

Grey sunset in the back of twin black buildings

Grey sunset in the back of twin black buildings when birds flew into glass and blood

dripped in spirals down their back.

Grey sunset in the back of twin black building when birds flew into glass and blood dripped in spirals down their back. I saw a house of cards fall that day.

 

 

I think they thought I was dirty

Because a bath,

Not of blood,

But of gray flakes of ashes

Rained from the sky.

 

It swallowed me whole.

 

Your shirt was red that day.

You smelled of cinnamon sticks and honesty

Kissed me on the pulse

To reverse my life source

And went into a building where

 

I saw a house of cards fall

When birds flew into glass and blood dripped in spirals down their back.

Grey sunset in the back of twin black buildings.

Grey sunset.

Grey.

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country

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