Post Trauma

Christina Duhig

The girls hold each other up.
Cameras blacken and turn the fire
engines quiet.
                               An ambulance stalls.
When I see the yellow tape cross the stairs
into the station, I become part of the tallest building,
steady the sun on the sidewalk. Moths rummage
the stomach. The eye strains
sand from water. Sounds
                                                      come from boys
braced against a blue mailbox.
I almost do not believe. They are whispering
about me. They are saying something
about the devil. And not a word
about the boy who dared to climb a train.
© 2007 University of North Carolina Greensboro
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CHRISTINA DUHIG is a recent graduate of the MFA Writing Program at UNC Greensboro. Her poems have recently appeared in Washington Square.