This is not a drill


Closed the hole in the dike
with a mouthful of words.
No wonder

that darkness like water
is up to our  necks, any form 
disappearing under

the wavy surface of what is
missing its own form
and roots deeper.

Living on wet feet
the sky,  with icy
gusts, scourges  our thinking. Flashlight

sees the world with red eyes
and makes us look like devils.
Behind me sirens wail.