In what tower?

Your first e-mail read: don’t forget the honeycake
and pomegranates, each seed will be a flower.
What a sweet New Year! The reply said, I cannot make

sense of this. I sit and shake.
Where was J? In what tower?
Your first e-mail read, don’t forget the honeycake.

For god’s sake,
When will we know? Maybe within the hour.
What a sweet New Year! The reply said, I cannot make,

or is it find, the argument, but stay.
Planes cannot land. J was in the second tower.
Your first e-mail said, don’t forget the honey cake.

He went down 80 flights of stairs and is safe,
standing in the street in a sea of smoke and paper.
What a sweet New Year. The reply said, I cannot make

this disappear—the air or fire, and imagine the fear—
like slipping inside an alien ship.
Your first e-mail said, don’t forget the honey cake.
What a sweet New Year. The reply said, I cannot make.