Voices on the Wind
Voices from Home
A Friday Morning
by David Chorlton
Red light flashing in the sky: the neighbors
want to know.
Itís six oíclock
and dark. The blades
spin, the motor roars, a beam
descends from high
to scan the streets.
Who is it looking for?
On Monday it came after midnight,
cutting moonlight to shreds.
Did he get away? Is someone loose
questions. Itís getting louder: put, put, put,
and it isnít watching traffic.
Nobody was told. Police cars arrived
at a certain house at midnight:
arrested? Comes and goes.
There should be an alert on the news
telling us what, who, when. Anything
more than stop-a-stranger-in-the-street-to-ask.
After breakfast now.
The day wears a mask.
Who is without sin? Let us search the sky
for a sign of redemption.