Butler Pennsylvania 29


September 11, 2001

  
Day Seventeen

Late one night
in infamous September
the Court House clock
failed to strike the hour
and seconds passed
before a raven
glided down onto the Square
where I, still awaiting the sound,
watched it circle
then alight upon
a chilled granite slab,
to face me tilting its head
as if listening before lifting off
for the tower turret
whence it had come.

High above me now it stood
between two thin columns
robed in black
cawing judgment
on doers and deed:
let be what has been,
what is, had to be.




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