Summer 2004 • Vol. XXVI No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 2004 |

X

X is dominant—and fatal. She remembers this From a poem she read once, in a classroom Where a shaft of light illuminated dust motes Levitating over the forehead of a bust of Plato. But by the teacher's desk, on the blackboard, X Was the unknown. They found these ideas stunning— She, Marie, George, and the others—as if knowledge Were a dangerous mystery. And it was. But at least there was a classroom. Now There is only this windowless basement, One candle, one Bible, one empty bowl, The sound of bombers overhead, the odor of ozone. That's it, then—the wind moving like a cripple Among the leaves? Or slabs of concrete shattered In the holy crosshairs, blocking the upward portal.

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T. R. Hummer’s tenth book of poems, Ephemeron, was published by LSU Press in November 2011; his second book of essays, Available Surfaces, will appear in University of Michigan Press’s Poets on Poetry Series in 2012. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and teaches at Arizona State University.

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Terrorism

By T. R. Hummer

X is dominant—and fatal. She remembers this From a poem she read once, in a classroom Where a shaft of light illuminated dust motes Levitating over the forehead of a […]

Text

By T. R. Hummer

X is dominant—and fatal. She remembers this From a poem she read once, in a classroom Where a shaft of light illuminated dust motes Levitating over the forehead of a […]

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