unbulletproof

I am without words 
which are weapons 
& wrap me like arms 
without rocking
& rest heavy against my chest 
the way a bulletproof vest would 
if I had one 

if we all had one 
I wouldn't be writing 
about 10 people in a grocery store
or 19 children & 2 teachers

I might even have words 
instead of tears
 

metaphysical geometry and other foolery

if I count magic
in the space between your breaths
& not what is measured
in the numbering of them

I will know
that life happens
past proof
of where it has been

quietly
& in spite of it

Another 9/11

20 years later
On September 10th
The memorials begin

And I can't surf the wreckage
Of another tower
Or count the ashes 
Of lives sacrificed
In a Pennsylvania field again

We've been here before

Tomorrow I will remember
The moment the second plane hit
And how frantic I was to hold my daughter
Because I still could
On that day full of so much losing

Used to it

I didn't get over losing you easy,
Your name still a whisper under my tongue.
I woke up today counting the years of it
On my fingers: 26 without you.

This year is different.  
Now, I am the last of us,
Our once large family 
that filled a station wagon
Gone.  
I'm all that's left,
The curator of a collection
Few come to visit,
Though I wait for guests,
Dusting off what's special
And smiling at the rest.

Wrapped in the flag

Dressed like lady liberty
Raising a plastic torch
That never burns

You riot for America

Sedition swaddled comfortably
In the flag

So you can call it patriotism
If patriots can't lose
Without spilling blood or tears

Yhe vice president
got vaccine today
while the tally crawled
over 300,000

The vice president
got a shot in the arm
while evictions hover
& utility bills climb

The vice president
mourns the economy
more than the dead

Pandemic winter

Finally the snow comes
To cover over what's raw
The naked dirt of fresh graves

Though we still live.
The plumes of breath escaping masks prove it.