.  .  .  .  .  . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
   .  .  .  .  .                                       In dedication to
 .  .  .  .  .  . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm     everyone who was lost
   .  .  .  .  .                                        or lost someone
 .  .  .  .  .  . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm      September 11, 2001:
   .  .  .  .  .                                           Anada 431
 .  .  .  .  .  . mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm          "Mourning"    
                                                          by X-tabai
 mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
                                                           09/30/01
 mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 Tuesday Mourning

 My cat sleeps on the television.
 She sleeps above a blood-soaked city
 choking on a speechless requiem,
 sleeps as others never will again.

 Her breath is slow and even, unchanged
 By swift pale clouds raining dusty death.
 Her sky is no wider from the loss
 of two buildings in another world.

 My cat wakes, turns over and sees me
 staring awestruck at the swelling loss.
 Her mouth opens in a silent yawn.
 Mine has no more words in it than hers.


 Wednesday Mourning

 I
 So hard, remembering to use past tense
 for people who are no longer present.
 “He is– no, was… they were…” They are no more.

 II
 Buildings lie like bleached, shattered bones,
 crystal cages for survivors
 unable to scream through the glass.

 III
 Every word of war is another death-
 scream smuggled like a knife through cold, dry lips.
 Every call for vengeance is another
 nail in a great, dark communal coffin.

 mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
 . . .------
  * * ------  by X-tabai                             (c) anada.net  09/30/01
 -----------
 mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm