Under the Moon
– Tom Warner
In a shanty town of chimneys and aerials,
plumped pigeons roost their silhouettes.
Under the pigeons, children sleep with their pets
in rooms stencilled with bright fairy-sentinels.
Under the children, parents wipe surfaces
and watch television. A windless snowfall
corrects typing errors; streets like rows of kisses.
But disasters have happened, are happening, will.
Under the parents, the unmentioned monsters
that slam doors are tonight locked down in the cellars.
The children are hurt. O mothers, fathers!
They are lying at school, and they don’t tell us.
The morning snow has made grottoes of the cars.
A blackbird stitches the front lawn with scars.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 