Walking the Pulitzers (New York Times, 2002)
The camera lens captures them both—
sirens silence traffic. We could all hear
it. It sounded like a rocket. And they lit up
like September marshmallows. The sky
a dark morning while we sang
behind a window give a dog
a bone, this old man came rolling
home or down the street, where fire
rescue will find them later, buried
in the ash-grave. Bodies or debris
confettied through the air, and the clouds,
not completely themselves and loose, came
down. That morning we were all
blanketed under the same white.
Lilia Dobos is a current Graduate Teaching Assistant studying TESOL at Salisbury University. Her other publications include Barely South Review, New Mexico Review, The Quaker and forthcoming work in Red Flag Poetry.