Where Is the Fight?

I heard them
As they came up from behind
Like Death Eaters,
A loud menace rippling the road
With the sheer force of their sound
As they swooped down and around
Two fighter jets
The synchronous movements of which
Stopped traffic on 84 outside Stewart AFB
Ordinary people stopped from their ordinary business
Lined up like road kill dragged out of the way
And waiting to be carted off
Hoods propped and drivers' bodies
Draped across roofs and trunks
The better to steady the iPhones and catch
For the disbelieving
The menace on its next round
And this time, there were three
Loops and circles corkscrewing the air
Now rippling my heartbeat
With dread that would have me pull over
Except that I would not count myself among the dead
And then there were five
The contrails of which drew a musical staff
Onto the faded blue of a cloudless summer day
As they curved round and came back to
Me on the torn up highway
My breath stopped and my mouth dry.
No bird sang, no horn blew,
No tunes on my radio,
No sound at all.
Could you photograph that from the side of road--
The erasure of song from every soul,
The welcomed almighty silence

Of Artful Death?