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Sep. 8th, 2010 11:41 pmA siren is wailing.
Faint, distant haunting but growing louder.
Louder.
And louder still.
The sound is audible through the walls, through the plaster and concrete and glass, echoing down the corridor as it bounces from window to door to wall and back again closer now just a few minutes it will all be alright away and then it cuts short, silent.
The night exhales.
A stream of smoke not exhaust but just as poisonous to the lungs filters skyward to the stars.
Time ticks on, a steady march. Drums beat.
So do hearts.
and minds think and lungs breathe
Until they don't.
Another siren begins to wail.
(So does the infant in 45 B.)
The cafeteria is serving turkey breast in sauce with mixed vegetables. Fruit on the side.
No salt to be found anywhere.
Another siren cuts short.
code blue to thirty-four d
time of death
It is going to be a long night.
By the time sun rises it's a beautiful day he can barely shuffle down the sidewalk, knees struggling to fight off the effects of Arthur and he's wishing he had some brown to wash down aspirin with. Newcastle and Tylenol for breakfast? Yes please and thank you.
It is four blocks to the abandoned warehouse he calls home.
where the heart is
He cannot climb the ladder to the rafters.
He cannot fly, either.
A cardboard box becomes a bed, and his tattered wool coat the comforter.
He does not untie his boots. (Socks have holes, anyway.)
His eyes close.
faint, distant, fading, growing softer.
a siren wails. so does the mother in 45 b.
It is going to be a long day, too.
Faint, distant haunting but growing louder.
Louder.
And louder still.
The sound is audible through the walls, through the plaster and concrete and glass, echoing down the corridor as it bounces from window to door to wall and back again closer now just a few minutes it will all be alright away and then it cuts short, silent.
The night exhales.
A stream of smoke not exhaust but just as poisonous to the lungs filters skyward to the stars.
Time ticks on, a steady march. Drums beat.
So do hearts.
Until they don't.
Another siren begins to wail.
(So does the infant in 45 B.)
The cafeteria is serving turkey breast in sauce with mixed vegetables. Fruit on the side.
No salt to be found anywhere.
Another siren cuts short.
code blue to thirty-four d
time of death
It is going to be a long night.
By the time sun rises it's a beautiful day he can barely shuffle down the sidewalk, knees struggling to fight off the effects of Arthur and he's wishing he had some brown to wash down aspirin with. Newcastle and Tylenol for breakfast? Yes please and thank you.
It is four blocks to the abandoned warehouse he calls home.
He cannot climb the ladder to the rafters.
He cannot fly, either.
A cardboard box becomes a bed, and his tattered wool coat the comforter.
He does not untie his boots. (Socks have holes, anyway.)
His eyes close.
faint, distant, fading, growing softer.
a siren wails. so does the mother in 45 b.
It is going to be a long day, too.
