Midnight Headache

not so much the barking dogs,
though their complaints will not soothe
that midnight headache, nor frighten
the prowlers since their barks are sharp, long
and overdone.

and not so much the traffic tied to concrete’s thump, never
slowing, never grunting a moment,
just a hiss of speed with “bar-bar-racks” of burping
motorcycles coughing like sick rhinos,
hoping to release a swallowed pumpkin.

no, not them, but the midnight quiet strikes fear more
since our marigold planters, five in all,
disappeared from the front porch
and the culprits left their footprints
in the cold clay dumped in haste.

those men crawling past our shrubs,
those men, bold deceivers, stabbed
our hearts, raked our privacy with their
knives, and shredded hopes
of any intimacy behind our lacy
Victorian drapery.