A Tuesday (a poem)

A Tuesday, cool and breezy
Red, orange, yellow and brown
Splattered beneath the blue sky.

Past the gym and up the stairs,
Up on the third floor,
Can see the Steel gleaming.
I turn the knob twice past zero
Twenty-six, pass it again
Thirteen, straight to forty-four—
Slam it shut.
Books under arm,
Beat the bell, get to class.

A Tuesday, cool and breezy—
Until I’m interrupted during fourth-period study hall.

buzz
It’s the intercom:
Students, faculty and staff—
There has been an incident
At the World Trade Center.
Please remain calm.
Everything will be alright.
That is all.
buzz

The students are confused.
That was strange,
What was that about?

bell
English is next.
Sit down in a seat.
Teacher is crying,
And we whisper, wonder.
Teacher stands up,
Students fall silent.
Teacher’s voice quivers.

A knock on the door—
My friends are leaving
Parents are frightened.

bell
History is on the third floor.
The blinds are drawn,
The room is dark.
The television is on:
The blooms of fire,
The cascading Steel,
The ash snowing down,
The exodus of the Island,
The teary-eyed pleads for
The lost that cannot be found,
All flash by in the ghastly glow
And brand our memories.

A knock on the door—
More friends are leaving
Parents are frightened.

bell
Can’t go out for lunch—
School’s on lockdown.
Go up to the third floor,
Look out a window:
An abyss stares back.
A dark plume mars the blue.
A furnace burns over the river,
But Tuesday is cool—almost cold.

What’s going on?
What happened?
Is this the end?
No—a beginning.

A Tuesday, cool and breezy
Revealed a world, cold and surreal,
And all I can see are shades of gray.