Fallen Angels

That day we all came back to ground zero
A kind of unsung omen called us in
This is where all the angels fell
Burning through the stratosphere
No children wept;
Merely hung their heads with a grave aquience
To the events that unfolded there
I keep those photographs folded here
In the flaps of my heart where those emotional masochistic tendancies lay
But mostly, I leave them to stagnate,
Calling them out from time to time
To cry blood and engage in out owm personal stigmata
--Yours with blunt words,
Mine with blisters that struggled to the surface
Not now,
but someday.
Soon
This will be forgotten
And children will no longer hang their heads
And the annals of time will be washed clean
And no one will remember
That this is where the angels first fell.

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