“My eyes caught on a man on the 100th floor… I was watching the man
throwing himself out. I watched him go all the way down and hit.”
Rudolph Giuliani --- former Mayor of New York
No magic carpet, wings or miracles
slow by incineration or direct by flight
tongues swelling, clothes peeling
eyes burning that never cry.
The fire rages, first degree
second, third. Oxygen in lungs glows.
Blood boils. Mothers in Arizona
water their potted marigolds.
A catered breakfast on its way
South Tower, 100th floor.
Omelets, bagels, assorted cheeses
and a medley of tropical fruits.
A sea, a sidewalk, it’s all the same
immediate, the very last ballet.
For Icarus, how long was it before
the fall? At least he got to fly.
by: E. Arosemena