<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><span class="">Communion, NYC</span><br class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14px;" class="">September 25, 2001, for</span> <span style="font-size: 14px;" class="">A</span>.<div class=""><br class="">He is breathing the dust<br class="">of his neighbors.<br class="">At night he wakes<br class="">to cough a path of air<br class="">down his throat between<br class="">their body motes.<br class="">In the day he walks streets<br class="">fluttered with faces they once wore<br class="">and flags. Grief-<br class="">cry, battle-cry, wind.</div><div class=""><br class="">**<br class="">Their ashes <br class="">line his lungs now,<br class="">stir on his air, <br class="">sting on his unskinned eye.<br class="">He drinks the tea<br class="">they make of his tears,<br class="">serves it to others<br class="">whose names he does not know.</div><div class=""><br class="">***<br class="">In his dream, death is finally worn<br class="">on the surface. A small black square<br class="">above each head and to the right:<br class="">undeniable.</div><div class=""><br class="">***<br class="">He wakes to clear his throat in the night.<br class="">Death is inside him now,<br class="">released <br class="">from its long exile in the grave.<br class="">His body is the charnel ground,<br class="">his breath the white white vulture<br class="">churning ash into bread<br class="">bread into touch<br class="">touch passed from stranger <br class="">to stranger<br class="">through the dust<br class="">of fallen walls.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Kim Rosen</div></div></body></html>