The 9/11 Life

There’s shrapnel between our family 
photos and the protective glass,
stuck between breath, lodged 
under wedding bands.

There are pieces of the Twin Towers
mixed in with my sons’ legos,
grey bricks, red blocks, detached
hands & legs & hats

Businessmen throw themselves 
from my leaky kitchen faucet
their screams coating
my St. Barbara’s Day Ball glasses.

I pull pages of Skymall magazines
from the tines of my rake every fall
they smell of jet fuel
and pumpkins spice lattes

The King of Battle plays with my dog
while we all sleep swaddled in
patriotism and privilege.

The 9/11 Life - part 2

We’re not even together anymore and
I flinch when the door knocks.

You didn’t get a single scratch and
I hate when the door knocks.

More than 3 years at war and no PTSD and
I want to hide when the door knocks.

Your last deployment ended in 2013 and 
I still flinch when the door knocks.

We haven’t touched each other in years
I still nightmare of door knocks.