elemental (poem)

Kate Holly-Clark
Aug 28, 2017 · 1 min read
Intersection along San Houston Pkwy. Water about 17 feet deep.

It feels self-indulgent
to be writing in a dry house
when water is rising
or the hills are falling
or the wildfires are out of control —
they said it was a cigarette this time
tornado alarm sounding
and only echoes in the white-pillared house
emptiness and no comfort
I do not believe in thoughts and prayers
because while my goddess moves mountains
She tells us to bring a shovel
put your back into it, girl, She tells me
love is a verb
and a prayer
only when it is in motion
and there is not enough
to go around
always a body short
a dollar late
I will have to figure out
what I can do
to pray
to dig
to burn
to fly
to swim

to tow whosever’s collar I can catch
to shore.

Leah McElrath lives in Houston and compiled this excellent list on Twitter if you too wish to pick up a shovel:

https://twitter.com/leahmcelrath/status/901933371315675136

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Kate Holly-Clark

Written by

Storyteller. Poet. Feminist.

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