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
steep Main Street hill,
breaking the night silence by throttling—
prolonging it even,
slower, ever slower,
each intoning drawn-out drum rolls,
upbeat in triumph it seemed,
as if each were entering
some long-sought-for, sung-about town.
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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
steep Main Street hill,
breaking the night silence by throttling—
prolonging it even,
slower, ever slower,
each intoning drawn-out drum rolls,
upbeat in triumph it seemed,
as if each were entering
some long-sought-for, sung-about town.
Next
Home
Comment