A Terrorist in Words Alone by Corey Mesler I want the poem the politicians fear. I want words that cohere like NG and sodium nitrate. I want the poem the newspapers will all recount, the one left at the airport, in the briefcase. It’s a poem I’ve been working on, late nights, when the rest of the house is asleep. My children all tucked into their blankets like covers, ways to keep things hidden that will later be revealed. © 2003 by Corey Mesler. All rights reserved. Home