once there was a rainbow
On the tenth anniversary, I’ll travel to New York,
to Manhattan near Ground Zero.
I’ve been there before
just after dust and ashes settled
atop resting heaps the Towers were.
Quiet came to me there
at the edges of the Trade Center, its
fenced in confines,
a cemetery where bodies were buried
My nephew worked near there that day,
near enough to see death and destruction
reveal their fatal display.
He felt it. He saw it. He tasted its color.
All of it was gray.
A gray he hears when I ask him to meet me there.
B. Koplen 9/9/11