Masses: Sirens

painting by Marlene Vine, poem by Roy Herndon Smith

Sirens (1406)

the sirens are not
so frequent now that I am
in the corona

not still in the heart
of the explosion; again
I hear birds calling

the sometime rumble
of trucks and the back-up beeps
and the long moments

of humming stillness
between; again the unheard
implodes, a siren

rising and falling
intensifying, fading
all that is is tears