The poet Anupama tried to say something
today, but all she found in her mouth were some stale
ashes. She is going to drink some water and turn on some
ragas. She’s hoping you are doing something like
this too to take away the ashes and fill your rooms with
beauty, sounds. On that day ten years ago, she was feeding her son
applesauce for the first time when the tower was spewing
smoke. She bought a basket of Cortlands yesterday.
I think she’s going to make an apple pie.