by JS Schilling
and the transit,
everyday people died.
O!'
the post Brooklyn landscape,
still going.
We still have flies in the basement laundry,
and at street level,
young Latinas,
swaggering as if nothing
had been done,
young boys still flock to them.
But go to the landfill on Staten Island,
or the graveyards on Coney Island Ave
Where the "F" train meets the two story bridge,
IT
is all still there,
like Lincoln Logs of creation,
War...
like
Flanders' Field[s]
where we now grow wheat..
where some penned,
"...only God can make a tree..."
9-11 will go down like thee,
the quiche of
"why?"
there is no war in Iraq,
only our thoughts that there is
a war.
(Atoms know no death.)
~
Copyright © 2007 - JS Schilling
Published: 10/25/07 · Author's Page · Next Poem