by Darcie Whelan-Kortan
We heard no sound
as they jumped
from a hundred and more
flights up
Just a simple
toss
of body into air
And from our vantage point
below the smoldering towers
through the lens
to somber houses
across thousands of miles
as they fell
they all looked the same—
no clothes
no faces
no fear
Just a black outline
two arms and two legs
joined in the center
like the wiggling X
of a chromosome
a single, unseen, unnamed
living piece in the code
of who we are
lost forever
Darcie Whelan-Kortan has published in Motherwell and wrote the column Beyond Broken for Literary Mama. She is a featured writer on Medium. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from Mills College.