A Culture of Fear
Only at night do we hear the voices of each creature –
desperate for comfort of a vaguely familiar voice.
Come, save us from our loneliness, we say as if cricket
sang for an audience or bullfrog made guttural small talk.
The homes of our subdivision, on the edge of the country,
disappear with sunset. Now we have only the dirge
of distant tires, the percussion of closing doors,
this horror movie at the point all goes black
and we know the next sound will make us jump.
At night there is only space in the dark air. And we —
we’re creating noise to save us from our imagination,
the mind that creates a world of sirens and footfalls
nearing our homes. A mind pacified by the hum of a round
stroking the inside of a chamber — its creations move us
to make orange halos in the dark, hoping the flash will
illuminate that invisible sound beyond our understanding.
***
Dwight Gray’s newest book, Contested Terrain, is now available in paperback and Kindle editions.
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Photo by Sandy Em/Flickr