The Woman who Went Mad from Machine Noise
Leaf blowers. Truck exhausts. Horns.
Sirens. Helicopters above her town.
The neighbors’ various air conditioners
burbling all night long.
Even her husband, good man that he is,
waving the new cordless hand vac
to whoosh up a small pile of crumbs
you could swipe with a rag. No,
give her crows cawing. Dogs yapping.
Pine cones hitting dirt. Even little Claudia
across the road screaming at Sammy
for poking her powder-blue bike.
This woman wants the skritch of toenails
scratching against fresh sheets. Or owls.
And please, tonight, the mute white hum
of a thin moon going down.