They Are Coming

Maybe what we need is bells
on the front door,
the back door,
the windows.

hang them in the trees 
along the path leading here,

Maybe a gate or seven
gates and bell them too. Build 
rings of gates and bell them all:
signal bells on each, larger and louder
the farther away they are from 

Maybe build a beacon fire
on a far hill
and put a standing guard there
ready to set it ablaze
to let us know.

Then, of course, we’ll need
to be very quiet all the time.
Sit silently in the dead center
of the house, equidistant from
all the bells, with vigilance
for the near-certain fire
on the far hill;

have to stare
out the window at that, 
constantly, waiting, guns
in our laps, in every corner,
a knife on every hip;

our children
in the soundproofed basement
hidden away,
learning defensive trades
at forges and anvils,
stabbing practice dummies, 
shooting practice people;

growing up in the dark
for their own good
as out there offers only
the dangerous chiming of bells
in the rank wind coming
over the borders.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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