Panting Dog

Heat on the tongue.

Mouth open.

Air in, air out.

Strasbourg.

Tulips bruised dark.

Daisies thin, milk-pale.

Coral bells holding heat.

The palace stands.

Stone, carried over from another Alsace.

I lie down.

Grass rises—

a small forest at my face.

Nothing moves but light.

I lie so long

the reason slips.

Peace.

Elsewhere,

sirens pull through streets.

Night breaks open—

white arcs, then impact.

Drones circle.

Hold.

Cross.

Choose a window.

Swoop.

Enter.

Oil burns.

Black crescents climb the blue sky.

Tankers stall in narrow water.

Missiles cross deserts in minutes.

Over roofs.

Over sleep.

Here,

a bee nimbly works clover.

Untroubled.

It is peaceful.

I do not sleep.

Mouth open.

Air in, air out.