The Twins
by Zac Langridge
There and gone
Together forever
Born and gone in pairs
The first the oldest in life and death
The youngest behind and ahead
Grey and solid
Steel and aluminum
Grey and solid
But quickly vanishing with the wind
A choking cloud of dreary grey death
Two sculptures among a sculptures
Two statements on a skyline
Two symbols of a country, a city, a time
Peeking over the heads of their elders
Watchful guardians looking out for you, guiding you, sheltering you
Impassive, oblivious
Monotonous, ethereal
Overwhelming, yet soft
A part of a landscape ever changing
Two towers, a collective pinnacle, changing with the sun
A clear blue sky
The roar of a jet
The smell of fiery fuel
A thunderous boom
A molotov cocktail consumes the older’s head
The sky is stained, spoiled forever
And the sirens start to sound
A second missile with wings swooping through the smoke
And the younger twin too shudders and shoulders
Standing in solidarity, wounded and burning
Never apart, never alone
Yet in pain, crying paper and people and sparks
The moans grow louder, tortured beings warped beyond repair
And the youngest twin finally catches up to its brother
No!
It’s gone
Only one stands
Weeping smoke and liquid fire
The ashes of its fallen brother settling at its feet
The whole is a half, but it cannot be so
Not without the company, the support
Only the sirens and the silence and the ashes remain
And the standing half falls too
A twin rumble, a twin cloud, a twin rain of death
Twenty years later
Twin pools reflect
As the facades of the towers once used to
The sun dancing off their glassy mirrors
Reflecting and reminding their surroundings
Never apart, always together
The late twins of New York City
THE END
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