Nineeleven Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Nineeleven
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Can we erase the memory
of desperation falling
from highrise windows,
so many seconds it took to die.
And it will stay with us
as if flash-frozen
until that day in Spring.
But who will pay?
Saturday, May 7, 2005
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5/8/2024 5:03:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
