Climax
The seas were rising
and along with the swell came the heat
the winds knocked at our doors like
drunk fathers who would knock our heads
from our bodies and peel our skins as though
they were clothes
We were frightened at the sounds
outside our doors
the unidentifiable howling
the rush of wind
pummeling our walls
All our furnishings had been
removed from the porch
Our furniture, like we were,
piled inside our homes
There was no room for movement
but we still had our hope
For days upon days
we lived in darkness
surrounded by thundering train-like moans
There was no light, electricity
no television music or
telephones
We feared for our lives
dreaded the thought that the futures
of our children and grandchildren
were lost
But without consultation the rains slowed
the wind softened
after time we opened our doors
The streets were drowning in water
ocean currents flowed into our homes
we were blind with gratitude
it seeped through our pores
into our bones
Like frightened children
shooting out of their rooms,
without warning
the lights came back on
Our stoves began to work
we emptied our refrigerators
submitted our insurance claims
vacuumed all waterlogged accoutrements
polished and cleaned up our homes
With the return of cable
and internet
we knew at last we were
home
We relaxed, crossed our thighs
leaned back in our sofas
dismissed the little shrew-faced know-it-all
who’d been…
