Gabriel Conroy

 A wind tunnel
          at the end
          of the mind,

          Blackbirds in flight;

          Silence at dawn.

                        *                     

         Dogs howl,
sirens one street over;
sounds of summer
two months early

                        *

          Dawn without light,
crows in ascendance,
snow, sleet,
or rain

          Maybe all of the above

 

                        *

          Inside
the night, the dead
stalk

          As cats do

                        *         

Waiting for the UFO’s

Every week,
garbage trucks
compacting
their loads.

Fenced in frantic
dog howls;

thinks, what kind of
monsters are these?

Someone is smashing out windows
on our Street

You hear a rebel yell and crash
glass

It goes on that way for awhile
and escalates

Into hysteria
four broken windows

And a lot of noise
but no sirens

Some blocks that might have
meant dead bodies

I can live with the noise

 

Gabriel Conroy is a Dubliner by ancestry, American by birth. He completed a novel Broken Field Running he is loath to send anywhere; some things are best left to oneself.  More recently, he has been examining his poetic roots.