Silence,
gifted in a synthetic quiver,
placed at the marble steps,
dead of dawn delivery,
horse drawn and cloaked,
shaded in black ash
and mortuary mosaics

A hazy mist clings
to porch lights and railings
as thunder roars in the distance
while street cars find *** holes
to be louder than the
steam engines out of sync
with creaking metal tracks

Air raid sirens tested,
weekly since the last great war
forty years ago, just in case
causing hairline fractures in
alabaster pillars standing tall,
hand carved and stamped,
fingerprint adorned
by a cranky neighbor’s kid
singing sesame street
at the top of his lungs

Wiping his nose on his sleeve,
his hands on his pants (and pillars)
peanut butter and maple syrup,
tossing rocks at the goldfish,
making the dog bark,
pestering the gardener
trimming topiaries,
chasing gophers and
killing aphids
with soapy water
left over from last Thursday’s mess

***** dishes,
banging pots and pans,
slamming cabinet doors,
dropping silverware and the like,
shear madness for a flower man
with two shadows
and many unruly hedges
demanding his attention
as the owner sleeps just above
enjoying his gift of
silence