Saturday, February 6, 2016


 SIRENS

 





Fire engines, police cars, ambulances --

they go by day and night near where we live

up the lane from the corner triangle

of fire hall, police station, hospital.

We hear every siren disrupt the air

like it is inside our front room. It all

excites my small son. The bright red as well,

the silver, the black, the white -- together,

sounds and colours are for him the single

language of what brings wonder. Now something

is going on right on our block. My son

runs to the high window, steps with startling

precision onto the baseboard heater

cover, tries to climb the ledge, the rigging

of the blinds. Wild attention in his eyes,

he points, utters his urgent not-yet words.

He wants only to hear the vehicles,

the outsized versions of three of his toys,  

see them speed to a stop across the street,

then see the firefighters jump to the curb

in their boots, helmets, goggles, hooks and ropes.



I am no brave, strong, wise Odysseus,

I am a man in an old apartment

paying bills, rent, electricity, food,

to keep my son, his sisters, his mother

and me merely afloat. What I hear

in the street is no alluring high song;

it is the repeating instant of fear

blaring the emergency through my hours --

our building a roar of flames, no escape,

dire sickness, earthquake, us without supplies.

I am no ancient sailor manoeuvring

past the cliffs and rocks of an island shore,

yet everyone and everything I love

can appear far away and lost to me,

and an instant can tempt me to ruin.  

And I hold my son so he will not fall.  

And I hold to him. I kiss him, breathe in

the miracle smell of his hair, his skin,

keep the side of my head pressed against his

so neither of us will feel the alarm,

only the peace flowing within his skull.



And I am tied to him, and he to me,

our arms encircling while the vehicles

arrive in numbers and the sirens’ sounds

swirl close, louder, louder now, terrible --

he and I act as a ship’s mast that holds

a sail that fills with wind and steadies us

on the sea waves winding around the world.