Article: Sweet.(Poem)

 
Sweet 
 
  Linda 
   said my mother when the buildings fell, 
 
   before, you understand, we knew a thing 
  about the reasons or the ways 
 
  and means, 
   while we were still dumbfounded, still 
 
   bereft of likely narratives, We cannot 
  continue to live in a world where we 
 
  have so much 
   and other people have so little. 
 
   Sweet, he said. 
  Your mother's wrong but sweet, the world 
 
  has never self-corrected, 
   you Americans break my heart. 
 
   Our possum--she must be hungry or 
  she wouldn't venture out in so 
 
  much daylight--has found 
   a way to maneuver on top of the snow. 
 
   Thin crust. Sometimes her foot ...

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