In July 1945 my Mother was 23
And worked as a clerk in the wartime
Office of Price Administration
On the third floor of New York’s
Empire State Building.

A little after 10am,
A US Air Force bomber
Blundered in the fog into the
79th floor of the building,
Killing eleven. She and her friends,
Sitting (as per air raid drills)
In the central stairwell, thought that
Germany - which they forgot had surrendered -
Was bombing them. Finally they were sent home;
From streets choked with starers and responders,
She looked up and could only see smoke and fog.
She took the subway home.

In September 2001 I was almost 49
And worked on the top floor of a
downtown Manhattan building, in
a small New York City government office,
four blocks uptown from the north tower
of the old World Trade Center.
About a quarter after 9 sitting in my office
I heard a jet plane noise go over my head,
Followed by a loud explosion; it made me
Think of a sonic boom, as in breaking the sound barrier;
But people said a plane hit the Trade Center.
I thought of my mother. But we had no air raid drills.
I sat there another ten minutes or so, listening to the news,
When a much louder crash rocked the area and
Made our building actually shake – this even though
The second target (south tower) was somewhat farther away.
The radio announcer was very upset.

Anyway, I went out and started walking uptown
Past starers and responders – a long walk to find
A place to sit, up in Washington Square Park.
At some point on my stroll up Broadway,
Somewhere in Soho, I noticed that people around me
Were standing very still and looking in a frozen way
Back down toward the site of the Trade Center.
I turned around, for the first time, and looked,
But all I could see was smoke and dust
(and a helicopter hovering).
I realized later, based on time estimate,
That was when the north tower collapsed,
Killing thousands,
But you had to be watching to realize it.
I took the subway home.

Fortunately (if you look at it one way)
My mother, retired in Florida,
Died a few years before this
Coincidental phenomenon occurred.
My sister recently unearthed a short
Memoir my mother wrote covering up to
About my birth date, early 50’s.
If I compared general trauma periods,
I guess I could list more for me but only
Because I know me better.
Against quarantine, she could put
Nearly four years of World War II rationing,
Anxiety, long lines and boredom.
Against my father, she had her mother.
Against her being female, I was queer. And so on.