Who knew I would become the
StormSpinner. Bad clouds used
to thunder me out of bed with their
vivid flashes of lightning prophesying
my imminent doom.
Wanted to be a meteorologist
but fear of storms drove me down
the basement every time it rained---
some brave weatherman I'd turn out to
be. Forecast: Panic!!
One blizzard, two indirect strikes
from lightning, three (or was it four?)
floods and remnants of a Category Five
Camille later, joined the service, moved to:
Tornado Alley.
And it's lived up to its name: six,
now. All have been weak, but when
the roof goes, does strength matter??
Once it's gone, puppy's gone. Don't have to
chase: the storms find me.
A day of disaster was my salvation:
from ashy, tear-stained skies, poetry
began to fall: no shelter to hide within.
All I had: four walls of words and pictures
to help me survive.
Have been spinning storms, since. I
stall their forward progress one stanza,
one image at a time: attempting to give the
extended to end the terror, once and for all---
you're reading it now.
(c) 2008, Karla Dorman (8/27)
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