| Butler Pennsylvania 33
After a Bad Dream Looking out an oblong cellar window I watched mercenaries that night swarming through our streets, heard tank cleats chewing asphalt, listened to planes strafing, heard bombs squealing down at us, heels thumping on porches, saw black-gloved fists pounding: while in fitful sleep fear raged inside me defying all defenses. Awake now, from struggle uncoiled I lay shooing the dream by asking myself what trucks were saying while driving down Main Street hill breaking the night silence by throttling— prolonging it even, slower, slower still each intoning drawn-out drum rolls, upbeat in triumph it seemed as if they had come upon some long-sought-for sung about town. Next Home |