THE AMBULANCE I’d tend to draw it out As something pregnant, freighted, A thing that lodges in the heart When seen, a bad luck image That hurts the eye; meaning Nothing ever very good, usually Worse than that. Many moving vehicles Carry ideas in their stride, ambulances Tend to show more than they hide, Flashing their bright yellow jackets Of urgent care, implying pain. You don’t fix what isn’t broken, They say, as they speed, make way For someone else’s trouble, yours Can wait. We duly step aside, to see Another world’s quickly departing emergencies. But today, down the hall, where my window is, An office now, jerry-built for Covid-times, Stacked high with papers, books and debts It’s hard to pay when sales are down, And books stamped non-essential, hardly, It slipped a blue swift bird of lights, velocity, Across my line of sight like a beautiful apprehension That the...
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