Howie Good
The Invisible War

The sirens startle us.
We sit up in bed,
only to lie back down.
It's five in the morning.
Our faces are next to each other,
close enough for a kiss.
We exchange medieval looks
of fear and doubt.
When we wake up again,
the sun is screaming.
The daytime drinkers glare at us
through the window
as we walk past Sal's Place
holding hands. Unless
it isn't us they're seeing,
but the gunships pounding
over the rooftops,
the infant later found
crawling about the rubble
in a harness like a seeing-eye dog.

"A Warp For Walking" - Francis Raven