July 10th 2006: the News

Flipping through,
The channel caught, and stayed.
Manhattan's sky again was black and blue.
I watched afraid.

On some street
The architectural bowels
Of offices had spilled their load, replete
With doctor's tools,

And thank God
No one was killed, although
My terrorist-fragged mind remarked how odd
It should be so.

That the bomb
Would strike when most were out
And strike a small apartment left some
Room for doubt.

Later when
A snarled email was found,
The NYPD booked one of the men
Pulled from the mound,

Who, at last,
Fed up with his divorce,
Had balled up all his hate into a vast,
Concussive force,

To allow
His wife's excessive vigor
A proper heap so that she could be now
"a rubble-digger."

It was merely
One more domestic tension.
A building blown for only this seemed barely
Worth mention.

by Daniel Janeiro

Daniel Janeiro is a graduate student at the University of Dallas and has had a few poems published in The Grub Street Grackle. He lives in Irving, TX, and can be contacted at alighieri1300@gmail.com.

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