The towers, a matched set, an invincible imprint
set against an Atlantic horizon,
immovable steel hemmed in by city planning.
Streets, vendors, subway lines, muggers,
offices, traffic lights, and schools.
Bipeds, quadrapeds, and no-peds.
Planes like arrows fly and pierce;
flames like wicked wings beat the air, and then they fall—
one by one, two with hands linked.
Silent the fall, inferno above and beyond
an innocent blue.