September Eleven Poem by Michael McCoy wilson

It seems to me like it is a nocturnal battle
I thought it single, but it came to me double
A night brought forth an unforeseen attack
This will forever linger in my mind’s back
It was not stage-managed like a home movie
This happened for real more than a scenario
She made a cacophony of what I observed
Not enough to fight, still I was tempered

I withdrew to my room; she followed suit
My missing pictures steers the night’s feud
This I just asked about even in a soft intone
But the response that I got was just unjust
My intention was to clear this mess up
She answered then herself she took it upon
Then she became a demon-like mammal
An advocate of the devil’s desire

It looked to me like it will never occur
She raves mad in control of the sea cracon
Spooky in the spirit of the end-time dragon
Her eyes was blood red; she spits venom
And her claws stock-out in semi-circle curves
Ready to pierce them through my baby skin
Can I feel free with such a human being?
The answer stares on a white wall in blue ink