Two hundred dead.
Nine hundred killed.
The numbers
are so round.
They're like the planets.
Unimaginable.
Uninhabitable.
Out there.
Yet under
foot.
Paul Hostovsky has recent work in Spoon River Poetry Review, Poet Lore, ByLine, Switched-on Gutenburg, New Delta Review, Alimentum, White Pelican Review, FRiGG among others. He works in Boston as an interpreter for the deaf.