Three Poems (In Remembrance)

Three figure lunch
of raw fish, fried calamari
and bloody marys—
my brother’s treat.
Change in air pressure,
our ears popping in the elevator ride up,
Floor 107.
Shy younger sister
in the big city—
anticipation, apprehension...
Just one springtime day to gather views—
Lady Liberty from a boat,
melting skating rink
from an outside park bench,
thousands of toys from F.A.O. Schwartz,
a boat with my name on it,
Times Square taxi ride.
A place to stand on a window sill,
Floor 107,
an invisible floor of protection in
72 degree, jazz-filled air
from the plunge to the
cab-infested, sunny NY streets below.

Last week
a Brooks Brothers suit
(followed by Floor 107)
made that plunge,
the soul donning it given no time
to vacate,
or a chance to have lunch.


You wouldn’t know.
Say sorry and take a ride
In your dream car,
Forget people who lose
Their whole world.
You wouldn’t understand
Eyes of a little child,
Seen deliberate death,
A sky filled with flame
Instead of stars.
You haven’t been there,
The pain isn’t real,
A movie on the big screen,
The players on Broadway stage
Out of buildings
Out of mind.
You say thank you
For what you can’t appreciate
Because you’ve lost
You take your moment,
Loss of the world outside
One life exists
For you, afraid
Of unseen faces,
Their cheeks stained with ash,
Blood, hope,
Fear builds walls
Around ignorance,
Towers of beautiful life.


not only those in NYC
but those
at the Pentagon
who bravely acted
and crashed
in a field
remember those
who rescued
who searched
who have lived every day since
with guilt
with sickness
with pain
remember those who died
and those who lived.


Write as RainJulie Kanta