evening’s third
frantic clang
of fire
alarm where fire
is not
bruises the head
past Saturday drinking
drowns out the blades
and engines in
still faintly lit
night sky
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having just gone through a fire, i am glad yours was a false alarm, but head the thought makes my head pound just a bit…smiles.
oh glad it was not a fire.. we had a wrong fire alarm in the company lately with fire brigade and evacuation and everything…was glad it was false alarm..
Thanks, Brian and Claudia – the alarm in this building is ridiculously sensitive. I’ve known it to go off because someone was making toast (no burning involved).
Glad there was no fire. Good job conveyingnthenjarring nature of those alarms.
Thanks, Nara!
I like when the blades and engines finally disappear. And when the fire bells stop clanging.
What a lovely poem. Just the right touches of words.
Thank you. Perhaps not surprisingly, that was my favorite part IRL too. 🙂