Communion, NYC - Kim Rosen

[Larry Robinson]

Communion, NYC
	September 25, 2001, for A.

He is breathing the dust
of his neighbors.
At night he wakes
to cough a path of air
down his throat between
their body motes.
In the day he walks streets
fluttered with faces they once wore
and flags. Grief-
cry, battle-cry, wind.

**
Their ashes 
line his lungs now,
stir on his air, 
sting on his unskinned eye.
He drinks the tea
they make of his tears,
serves it to others
whose names he does not know.

***
In his dream, death is finally worn
on the surface. A small black square
above each head and to the right:
undeniable.

***
He wakes to clear his throat in the night.
Death is inside him now,
released 
from its long exile in the grave.
His body is the charnel ground,
his breath the white white vulture
churning ash into bread
bread into touch
touch passed from stranger 
to stranger
through the dust
of fallen walls.

	- Kim Rosen
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