Aftermath Poem by Carol Fleming Klein

After the storm
is a quiet
when the clouds scud together
and the moon peeks from
behind
to view the damage

the battlefield
is scouted
for the groans of survivors.
A melancholy calm
envelopes
all

to which a blazing dawn
might be called
a desecration
thro' which the
voice of a
songbird
may shatter
like machine gun fire

A heavy hanging calm
which can be felt and touched
and tasted
in the salt of sweat, blood and tears.

June 27,1990