Paola Corso, Pittsburgh-born Italo-American poet, has written fine Triangle fire poems that appear in her volume, Once I was Told the Air Was Not for Breathing, winner of the 2018 Triangle Fire Memorial Association award.

Eyewitness

trapped behind a locked factory door

so they wouldn’t leave

with a shirtwaist in their pocketbook

when they finished their workday

leaping from sewing table

to sewing table across the floor

choking in a smokey cloakroom

as their dresses caught fire

pushed to the ledge by flames, crowding

for air, windows popping, girls jumping

three and four together, waving

their arms to keep upright,

they leave with their names and their light

Escape

                 In memory of Michela Marciano

1.

She came to escape the fire

of Vesuvius, an eruption

that blew off the ring

of its crater, molten fingers

reaching for her village,

a fire that burned for ten days,

Roof collapsing, lives collapsing

from the weight of ash.

2.

She leapt to escape the fire

In a shop with 288 sewing machines

But only 27 buckets of water

And no way out except

To suffocate in the smoke

Or jump – an ember

Falling from the sky.

She left the way she came.

Paola Corso