Efficient, polished shoes
clattered down secret linoleum halls
enacting long-forgotten contingency plans
while waiting for the reassuring hum
of the backup generator.
Before this occurred,
The rebirth of the vibratory song
Of Sleeper Cell anonymity and
Cellphone cacophony,
there was an inhalation of
Sacred silence
The Satie-like pause,
hope of imminent sound returning
But in the silence –
God.
eleanor j jackson 