at first people looking up
mistook the jumpers for embers tumbling
across the bright face of burning empire
not seeing the morning’s light
blue perfection was a cracked robin’s egg
disgorging black swans breathing not breathing
thinking what thoughts thinking no
thoughts bodies shot through the impossible
air shot down to the unthinkable street
into the unspeakable
outside time’s ambit the zone where some say
we can pray backwards they were not alone
blue perfection was a cracked robin’s egg
disgorging black swans
oh my, yes
Thank you for reposting this, X.P. This is such a powerful poem. I think we all remember where we were that morning, what we were doing. I can remember just standing in front of the TV watching people jump.