26 December 2004

I recently came across a folder of poetry that I wrote years ago. In honor of National Poetry Month, I've decided to share some of those poems, just as they are. It's one thing to be unfinished, and quite another to be unheard.

The 26th of December Two Thousand Four 

our planet wobbled on its axis

when the earth quaked
thirty thousand meters below the ocean floor
sending a ripple in the water
that grew as it traveled
on a course it did not choose

hundreds of thousands died

half a million injured
and countless cried

while on the other side 
of this wobbling globe
we celebrated my daughter’s twenty-first birthday
at a quiet restaurant
where nothing quaked
but the ice in my glass.