No magic carpet, wings or miracles,
slow by inceneration, directy by flight
tongues swelling, clothes peeling,
eyes wide open that cant' cry.
The fires rages slow to kill, first degree
second, third. Oxygen in lungs begings to glow,
blood really does boil.
Mothers in Arizona water marigolds.
A sea, a sidewald, it's all the same,
death by splatter, horizontal, immediate, ballet.
How long before the fall did Icarus know ?
A catered breakfast was on the way to the 89th floor.
by: Elena Arosemena