Michael Prihoda


remembering

symmetry,
commitment
to an
equivalent
storyline.

a gathering
of Alzheimer’s,
the towers
took on a
plywood morale.

their lives
suggested
they write
about
remembering.



in silence

the first response:
adhesive language,
struggling into runoff.

the crossing narratives
of themselves
after this happened.

a convergence, an
intimacy of physical detail
missing.

their prayer of authority
affected as if characters
and authors wished in silence.



downdraft

throwaway identities misspelled.
slit the envelope in the presence
of a cell phone.

hopefully
hopefully
my god

awe in lotus position
haiku on the floor after
missing her train.

she was accustomed:
terminals, intersections,
a downdraft of evidence.



theater

traffic edged toward
the green structure,
a business of viaduct,
a performance suspended.

people fell, jumped,
dangling terraces,
shouting at the puppetry
of a body’s last breath.

the single falling theater.



compilation

he found detachment morbidly remote.
from the briefcase, an imitation of pockets,
no guide in the compilation of money.




Michael Prihoda is a teacher, editor, and poet living in the Midwest. He writes: "These poems are redacted from Don DeLillo's Falling Man."
 
 
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