Elegy for September 10

Before all of our totems fell, you drew

A talisman on my forehead. I prayed

For a late harvest and rose like a

Steel-eyed crow, scouring

As many grains as I could devour before the last

Burnt vestiges of summer sloughed from my skin;

Before the light touch of early wind could suggest

Our search for conclusions was at an end. That last New

York night, we sat in Astoria. Hope sparked. I took in

The darkening skyline, struggled against sleep, dared

Dream of a future again. Had I been a better alchemist

I would not have nursed this, would have slipped away

From the past to blend memories like a salve,

Muddling with the practiced ease of one who works to forget

Everything, even instinct. Flying out of Manhattan that morning,

I left behind something more beautiful than any scar

I’d ever unpeeled. It was as promising

A morning since our demise was first revealed.