When they came from the other side,

the sirens chased us

into a house at the end of the village.

“Surely they are coming back,” you said.

No, the Egyptians were no longer a problem.

We paused to breathe, to plan our escape.

Outside the window the open field

and beyond that the forest and the gold coast.

We sat underneath the window.

Siren -- ambulance or fire?

Pharaoh does not disclose himself with sirens,

we held hands tighter.

Pharaoh?

No, a reckless taxi full of fools,

the owner of a radio station in a large midwestern city

the mayor who had his hand in the preacher’s pocket

the owner of the nursing home who signed his checks with a gold pen

they lunched on the skyline while we all burned in the street.

They chased us into the last house in the village.

We decided to stay right there and be

artfully defiant.

United States of America