10/28/2024
The next Poet's Press book will be "Bus Poems," by Pittsburgh poet Michael Frachioni. Critic Jay Nordlinger just featured one of the poems from the forthcoming book in his National Review online column (imagine that!).
Michael's poem, "September 12," describes one man's attempt to get through the day after the 9/11 catastrophe. In describing one person's small effort to do one normal thing amid shock and grief, this small poem has a stabbing power, I think.
September 12
By dawn’s tentative light,
determined to maintain routine,
he finds his shell in the boathouse,
lays it in the river.
Focusing on a distant point
he pulls oars through water.
The familiar cadence returns,
his work buoys him.
Whorls of mist
dance above his wake;
on either side, concentric circles ripple,
mark his beats, sigh
“I am here,”
“I am here,”
“I was here,”
then fade.
The heron stands in its accustomed spot
on the western shore,
quietly watches as he passes.
Their eyes meet briefly.
“God protect you,”
he whispers between strokes.
“God protect you.”
“God protect you.”
The tiny craft moves swiftly,
silently, tacking True;
his efforts an offering,
a hopeful prayer.
He fights to direct
a flood tide of emotion
into his arms, into his boat
into the river.
He pulls ever harder;
the oars now make
tiny, violent splashes
as they enter the water.
Of a sudden,
he gives a quick, anguished cry,
slumps forward,
releases the oars.
Coasting a while
in silence, head bowed.
The river still,
its reflection almost perfect.
The sky the same astonishing blue
as the morning before.
Despite exertions and prayers,
it is the only thing unchanged.
