He awoke to the deep distance
a faraway siren sewing its sound
into the dark night beyond the window
and listened
The cut of sound edged the room, grew louder
and helped itself to the cloaks of dark air
moving to the tune of its trajectory
he stiffened
Head now up he waited
in case in fear in ignorance in hope
the siren would stop
elsewhere
My lady in wisps has the smallest of lips her body’s a perfection from the nose to the tips My lady in plaits now does her own straps runs wild
The blow to the floorboard above dislodges a cockroach to fall to where it races as my shoe aims to save its life and kick it out the door as
the green light of left words flashes a cold message through the hours since sleep held the night and muffled the call of low hours. Now is not the time