I know her now, through the words in the poems
that come with her name, through the drawings
the sentences have made. I know her twenty years
will last a lot longer.
Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. An end to this
fall.
I know her now. I know she will last the concrete
and glass, the ceiling that held her that high, the
road and the bridge that took here there. I didn't
catch her fall and I didn't leave us as leaving
should be. Watching concrete floors through glass
ceilings can take the better of the days that we are
leaving.
Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. An end to this
fall. Maybe she'll catch me if I let her. Awaken
the scientists, the soldiers we were.
All the calls, the dances and songs, the moments
that were. They will never leave. All her words,
her ideas and her thoughts will all stay as such
things must.
You can't go back and take a different turn.
But I know she'll last the concrete and glass.
You can't go back and take a different turn.
But I know she'll last the concrete and glass.
