Nine the triangular a harmony a symmetry a satisfaction
completing a sweetness of repeat, Mama
O we are taught to think in strict bundles
of this kind
as objects:
nine
A little of Pi has exploded
outward
today flesh
and bone
turned rings around
to be inside-
out again
and there is zero
of us
left
to life
in Fallujah
* I'll be posting one per day from this sequence here for the next nine days.
The idea for the poem began from reading this information:
“FALLUJAH, Iraq – Nine soldiers were killed when the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter they were in crashed at approximately 2:20 p.m. Jan. 8 south of Fallujah.”--from the Sat. 10 Jan, 9:33a.m., posting at * Transdada, * kari edwards’s weblog.
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