Sirens

They run when they hear sirens -
it's all they know.
They hide under bridges
and fire escapes,
like their fathers
and their fathers' fathers.
They know the sight
and sound of thick
black boots in hallways
and the anger of an engine
unwinding in the streets.
They remember how unfriendly
four a.m. can be,
hunching behind fences
that wait with open jaws.
And they remember
how sour fear actually tastes
when it lingers
in the back
of the throat.