sand settles at the bottom of a glass
a single strand
of Sun
wiggles through the water
and onto
(a) palm of a hand
these shaky days take a breath
between earthquakes
to say hello
I learn to dance
while the roof splits the ceiling
and turns it into
the open sky
a fly plays music
in my ear
while Elm Street
is swallowed
by the earth
my only windows are my eyes
glass is crushed
the door is gone
the house
did not get to say
goodbye
the sand stays still
while mountains cry
and thrash
their will
I’m sitting in an earthquake
most peace
I’ve had
all week.
She moves and bucks
in desperation
my cup is unbothered
while pondering
isolation.
Splintered wood snaps into
a precious eye
blinded
but when did you ever
walk by what you saw,
anyway?
the light goes out
scared away
by Mother’s roaring temper..
I cannot run, or walk away
this world is not my author
the sand is still
unbothered
the Sun lights
through the water.