Wind

The sun hid behind a shroud
of dust blowing in from the
West. Lubbock inhaled into
the lungs, as easy as smoke,

sustained on winds in excess
of thirty five miles an hour,
driven deeper by gusts of
nearly hurricane force. Fires

broke out, fire departments stretched
to the end of their hoses
and patience as one got knocked
down and another began.

Walls vibrated, cracked under
the shouldering of the blast
determined to enter. Flights
canceled before the crash; live

wires fractured beneath the strain;
nerves were frayed by the banshee
howling outside their door - more
of this expected this week ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

No Ordinary Storm

This is no ordinary storm,
no garden variety of ...
normal ... dumping buckets on our
heads; we're beyond cats and dogs. It's
lyons and tygers and beyahs (o
my), this efficient producer
of wet and several thousand
bolts of lightning per hour. Weather
for ducks and for ducking (hiding
like ostrich, keeping butt down to
avoid being struck). Supposed to
clear up, heat up: believe it when
it happens. Who knows when that will ...
been an ... unusual ... summer.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Hurricane, Go Away!

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
Your friends
are not welcome,
especially since the last ones
left quite a mess
for me to clean up.

I just got it picked up,
and I'm not doing this again.

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
What do
I have to do?
Spell it out for you in black and white?
What part of 'No'
don't you understand?

My house is not your home.
Do you see a 'Welcome' mat here??

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
Do not
even THINK of
dropping in for a little visit.
We won't be home.
PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE!

You are not welcome here.
Now: Go away. Don't slam the -- door!

(c) 2004, Karla Dorman

Miracle in the Storm

... Survivors wander the ruined landscape;
in shock, they look at the remainders
of familiar comforts, now scattered and
broken; they pick through the pieces,
heartsick at their loss, grateful they're alive.
... A sudden cry pierces the rain filled night;
flashlights answer the summons; it is
a mother, holding her daughter's doll; mud
covered, it survived; al little girl
will be reunited with her best friend.
... In another part of town, parents look
in wonder at the tree resting on
the bed where their boy had been sleeping; their
son had been awakened by the wind;
he went into Mommy and Daddy's room.
... Under a fallen house, a tiny mew
shivers through the air; a Mama cat
and her six kittens took refuge in the
basement; they are wet and scared, but are
safe; seven more miracles in the storm.
... And Gramma will have her loving Poppy
to share the rest of her days with; he
slept through the worst of the storm; his hearing
aids still on the nightstand; Gramma said
Pop's snores were louder than the tornado!

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

GreenScreen

Meteorologist's eyes trained
to decipher greens, yellows, reds
on radar, spinning trouble we
see as blobs on our TV sets.

(All we know: red is bad. Heavy
weather is fixing to move in.)

The calm voice of reason slices
through each level of the storm, tells
which way it's headed, hoping to
save lives along the damage path.

(Don't know how much science goes
into bringing us the forecast.)

Would like to thank David Finfrock,
the NBC Channel Five Storm
Team for keeping us informed, for
inviting me into your world.

(And as far as the GreenScreen went:
don't worry. Think your jobs are safe.)

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Stalked

... embers announce a newborn as
fire beget fire:
on white-hot sheets of flame, a beast
with yellow eyes
twists on its umbilical cord
in strengthening winds.

It learns to graze.
The field, ablaze.

The monster's breath sears the sun
which turns blood-red.
Smoke chugs from its nostrils; I taste
its presence
bitter on my tongue, sharp like glass
deep in my lungs.

Igniting fear
as it draws near.

This is MY disaster, the
ongoing drought,
because I prayed the rain away.
It's my fault,
the devil parting burning grass
searching for me

as its next snack ...
must watch my back.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

Katrina: Everything's Broken

Daddy, is everything broken on
the Gulf Coast? Just hearts, Baby, shards
of a mirror lyin' on the
sidewalks reflectin' leaden skies

above, our soul shattered in a
billion pieces. Daddy ... will it
return? Hope so, Baby, don' need
another seven years bad luck .....

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman