blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1



Grief Bird

After those buildings fell,
And New York City stank from bad intent,
And the wind twirled with human pigment,
And the sky darkened in one spot and howled,

There we walked, newborn, holding flashlights and shovels,
Dusty with shock, the streets painted mad,
Ears still smarting from the evil crumble.

Now the combing, the sifting,
Now the hauling, the uncovering.
The astonished song.  

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