One day a plane hit a building
then another plane
then another building.
My father sent me a newspaper clipping
a full front-page photograph with a caption
and an enormous bold black headline
as angry as a cold black fist in the pit of my stomach.
Since that day the grey tones of life have diminished.
Black and white is louder now.
Two bold choices scare me.
I get terrified when the comfort and safety of colors fade
when poetry can’t take me home
when coffee shops are tense with lying laughter
when the vice of black and white squeezes my crystal soul.