No Smoke Visible

It started just past eleven — a long note,

not rising, not falling, just holding.

I lay still and went through the catalog:

not police, not ambulance.

Something municipal. Something to do

with infrastructure, or a grid, or water.

I got up and went to the window.

The street was ordinary under the orange light.

A parked car. A tree. A parked car.

The sound continued.

I stood there watching the street be normal

for what must have been four minutes.

The street was very committed to being normal.

Nothing moved. No lights. No smoke visible.

Then it stopped.

I stood at the window a while longer

in case something showed up to explain.

Nothing did. The tree. The parked car.

I went back to bed.

Two nights later I'm still doing this —

not worrying exactly. More like the feeling

of reaching for a word

and finding the space where it was.