Part 6 of Last Tuesday (This is Morning)

(Part VI.)
This is morning
 
The sun rises again
this is morning
and there’s an alien sound
in the Hopkins corridor,
all too familiar
it is intrusive and huge
as I shower
pre dawn Wednesday
like I can wash it all away.
On the bus ride, the first of two to work,
there is vague, grumbled conversations
about killing Pakistanis, and Afghanis.
There is vague conversation about war.
Something catches my eye while I’m waiting
for the #6 Euclid on Public Square,
a distant, nearly imperceptible light
probably 10 miles or more up in the sky.
Military? Satellite? Everything is a no – fly zone.
The chalky emptiness of downtown is eerie,
and a portent of things to come.
This is mourning,
inky and slow to rage,
just a long, slow, angry simmering
 in our race - less faces.