I heard a Banshee wailing. It cried
all night, fearing, I suppose,
the impending loss of the moon,
lamenting the last of all darkness.
I thought of everyone already gone
is new and beautiful and when it arrives,
everything I’m feeling tonight
will vanish, that the screeching I hear
is only the tires of a worn-down
delivery van with an even older driver,
both of them sorely in need of new brakes.