PML 2012 Day 7
A visual reminder of springtime in the Tornado Belt, provided by BFF-SSA (since second grade), Sheila Moe Anderson.
When it comes
will it bring pea-size, marble-size, golf ball-size?
Or will we look out and see the lawn
littered, flattened, divoted
by bowling balls?
When it comes
will it howl and rip and roar,
bearing its teeth, slinging its foaming mouth?
Or will it just bark
and bark and bark and bark and bark?
Will the load-bearers shudder and crack?
Will the foundation lift and separate?
Will the boards move in a cyclone circle like some
Hippy Hippy Shake Hula-Hooper on speed?
Will it rip us up, pick us up
and move us six feet to the left unharmed?
Will it hurl toothpicks through telephone poles?
Will it inhale with a great shriek,
sucking chicken feathers and other bizarrities
through the seal of the refrigerator door?
And when it’s done. will we rise?
Will we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off
and la la la la la la?
Will we emerge
stepping out onto a crunchy carpet of locusts,
and find the sidewalks slick with flies,
feeling their buzzy last gasps, the tiny tickle of their wings?
Will we smell manure and look out
to see three out of Four Horseman?
Will we climb out from the fraidy-hole in dazed silence
and find it all gone, wiped off,
clean as a hound’s tooth
and warm the hearts of the viewing audience
with our grit our pluck our Okie fortitude –
or just inspire them to call and
order more insurance?
Or will we land hard
bone-shattered and scattered,
broken, bloodied, irreparably, wholly, wiped-out,
gone daddy gone?
Will there be morning
and birdsong and sweet exhalation,
or just distant traffic sounds and
flattened mooshy grass, and
just the vaguest footprint,
of where we used to stand?