on not following the napalm that day (or how i’d love to dm you, too)

"i'd love to dm you"

"and i'd love to dm you too
but you told me not to a long time ago
on pain of being reported 
or taught a lesson
which a boyfriend of yesterday 
remains to this day 
desiring to deliver me
like a patchy amazon white-van driver 
although now they're a kinda charcoal colour
but can we really say grey-van driver
after all these years of white
as it's been?
can we, my dear? 
can we? well ... maybe so ...
maybe we can 
even so 

"and i'd love to dm you now this minute 
but the minutemen 
are getting ready to weep again 
though to be honest 
and sure
and certain 
they never stopped crying 
since they heard those terrified voice messages 
falling like big stone 
hurtling to the ground
like a terrifyingly soundless lament 
of wounded heroes 
amongst those zeros of binary digital
which has led the most horribly creative of criminals
to activate with evil beyond understanding 
or comprehension by any ordinary soul
the goals of hate and cruel latitude 
as my heart beats in terror 
and my head finds itself unable 
to feel safe any more 
in a world where these things happen at all 

"and so my dear 
in the personal 
which i hope we may be able to feel again soon
i'd so love us to go forwards to the past 
never back to the future 
because for me you're a picture of the best 
and always have been
and where friendship could now be a thing 
for us to enjoy fully 
and with ourselves together as we should
being just you and me forever now 
as we might sing ordinary tales
of quiet firesides
and wintery sales ...

"because it's absolutely true
that as human beings of common interest
none of us
absolutely none of us at all
deserved that 9/11 
not of famous sporty car   
nor of emergency calls from fire or ambulance
usually able to offer the succour and support
that make one want to trust more
our common humanity 
and goodness and truth 
and then again  
perhaps some sort of reality of the sincere 
and frank 
and fine and grand and honest 
and all the things that look to love 
and that which doesn't bite to the core 
and doesn't gnaw like rotting teeth 
at empty bone 
or a traumatised loneliness 
which drags down 
like plummeting gannet 
all human alone ...

"and so yes i say
and yes i weep
like the minutemen 
who failed without fault or blame
to defend in necessary measure 
the land of the free
from the curse 
of the unseen horror 
that still stalks this gomorrah
of latterday paintings
that draped the walls
that tumbled down in biting minutes
and that found their bloodied end 
as the skies rendered that day 
the warning of the shepherds
who refused to stay  

"the 9/11 not of all that other 
but rather of this
and that 
and no tipping of gentlemanly hat 
and of fateful and awful roll call
in the thousands and more 
of fallen bodies and souls  
who will never receive a dm again 
because that kind of message
is one of life
and life is what we all should treasure
now beyond any measure 
or remaining capacity 
to resist out of solitudes
the embracing of enemies
who may (one never knows) 
lead to a reconciliation 
without blows or rancour
nor deepening canker
of human letter 
and actions that lead to despicable act
instead of words that lead 
to rightful fact ...

"and so to all the good who cried that day
and to all the good 
who became unable to cry
out of shock maybe
or out of clock lately 
or out of broken body 
and splintered tones 
and then again without rhyme 
to make any sense 
of that time 
all i can say
is i am alive still 
and yet still your absence touches me
and hurts me 
and has me sad
and maybe behaving badly
but even so 
even so
even so
the day the towers fell
and although so far away
something inside me turned as cold as hell 
and since then i have never quite trusted 
any human again 
except that dublin day i met you
on the beautiful liffey 
being that day of my 54th
and that's when i saw a good person 
for the first time 
since the planes rammed the concrete
over and over 
with aviation fuel splashing the humanity
like napalm to our aftershaven chins
as the skin begins to peel
and the horror is fully revealed

"and so yes it's true
and it's always been you 
and that's what's saved me
from my 9/11 in the end
for the goodness 
(even where the love just ain't poss 
and this i know full well)
of a woman who knew me 
better than i ever would 
is what's made the difference 
between me following the napalm that day
and since 
and staying alive as one may instead 
in order to be here to fight another day
as brave as one can
in defence of one's land
minútemen and women and genders-all
to the very end ...

"love you my dear ... i really do

xxx"