Deana Prock

BECAUSE HE ASKED WHERE IT ALL WENT WRONG

I remember
you were still asleep
the morning I rushed home from class
and told you
that an airplane had crashed into the
two towers.
I can't recall
if you had worked the night shift
or just stayed up late,
but I do remember how
you never got out of bed.
Even when I came back and told you
the city was on fire
with people inside out
and that the Brooklyn Bridge
was so heavy with grief
I did not think it could bear the
weight of it,
you asked me to shut the door.
I remember how
I sat on our couch
watching CNN and
navigating the sadness
of the world alone
while you slept in the next room.
Later, you said that if you had understood
the magnitude
you would have gotten up to see it.
I remember how it was four days before our
first anniversary
and how I never loved you the same.

CP

Deana Prock attends graduate school in Brooklyn. Her poetry has appeared in Breadcrumb Scabs.