September 12 2001
All those on the other side, making
preparations to welcome such a large group.
Death is going door to door in New
York City walking past doormen, going up dark stairways, down halls and taking
the train to Long Island and Connecticut and getting off at little Cheeveresque
stations in the suburbs.
Death nears exhaustion, leaning in
one more doorway, waiting for the buzzer to be answered. Hesitating, sighing,
tired.
She has tears in her eyes as she visits
another house, and another and another.
At night death goes down to the
site and sits on the rubble wishing it wasn’t true.
Some of the dogs come and sniff at
death, then back up and give her a funny look.
Even death is too tired to be
moved.
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