poem

 Weather

No wonder I bury it.

When it surfaces

Everything breaks

Like porcelain figurines—

Delicate, but fierce beasts

Barely bridled on narrow muntins.

Shame passes through 

Me like the militant winds

Mistling down from northern lakes

In a hail of steel arrows.

I’m never ready for it

No matter how often 

It winces my defenses.

Just the other day,

Startled by a howling squall,

It bucked the bit

And dragged me 

Where it wanted to anyway.

How quickly a small crack

In the frozen foundation zig-zags

To the opposite shore

And we all fall in.

It’s best to relax

As it moves through you,

Let it have its way with you

Like any regular weather.

Then when the sun

Pulls back the shades

And shines down on your life—

Look around for fresh sediment

That’s how you bury it 

9/28/26