Twister

They said it wouldn’t hit us, swing south by miles

so we weren’t startled when the siren spun up

I lifted my old bones, hollowing and each possessed

by a malevolent poltergeist, each protesting

every stair, into the attic, where we keep our light

I could hear its progression, stones rubbing at the bottom

of a river, clunk and clunk and growl, so to the window

and oh wait

it’s heading right for us

black and full of spiral twist the wreckage of its meals

defining it from the world, it’s just at the threshold

of the neighbor’s door and I watch I watch

as they are consumed by the hungry maw

it’s a whistle now a sustained minor note

as with a sparkle and burn it eats the power lines

oh the hunger, oh the black, it just feeds and feeds

it is as relentless as my love used to be

now it has taken the street

and the whistle rises to a roar

I cannot move, my bird bones won’t hold me

I know she’s below me and also cannot move

we are rooted to where we began

it has taken the begonias and the daffodils

she so carefully planted, the lawn I cut into rows

it is knocking on the door now

oh my God, oh my God

it has finally come for us

Reviews

[Jennifer Patino]

"I cannot move, my bird bones won't hold me" -- excellent!

The anticipation for destruction captured here stands out the most to me. I kept thinking about how depression swirls like a storm & eventually destroys. At the end of the poem, I'm left wondering about the aftermath. Very nice work.

[JR]

Thank you! I watched a video on youtube a few year's ago. It was a guy shooting a twister as it came right for him, from his attic window. I read the backstory on it... pretty sad. I've had that video in my mind for so long and finally found a way to use it as a metaphor :)