It doesn’t take much
to blast heart beats
               off rhythm
these days.

Sirens talk 
             about tornadoes.

Basements quake
            when another coupler blows.

Chainsaws whine
             over fallen willows.

Twin oaks moan 
               above our house.

Numbers haunt  
             at 3 am
when again I can’t sleep.

Blood pounds
my ear drums
              in a ghost dance.

Are they dancing still—
              all the warriors 
in the streets?