Twenty Years Outdated
These firefighters show up at a hotel fire, maybe
Started in the laundry room during the off season, hoses
Frozen from winter temperatures, ice across roads;
The crumbling structure is about to fall, flames shooting out windows.
In our small town, three-hundred people
Are listening to the scanner because we can’t be there,
But our family and friends battle, wearing air
Compressors and safety equipment from 2002.
Twenty years outdated.
Other poets write about grief and hand holding,
The ache of winter trees bending with wind,
Charleston’s harbor, celebrations and tiny pains.