Three disasters in one dream
The hurricane, the flood, the fire
Little left standing but me
Waiting for the earth to buckle
Beneath my feet
And I was only housesitting, squatting
High on the rim of a river valley
Cabin tucked just into the lee of the land
Some hippies’ house I guess
Friends of a friend
The winds ramped the ridge above and behind
Their howling ruffling not a feather here
And the rising water, afroth with other rooftops
Could not have reached this foundation
Place was built for heavy weather
When the grease-laced smoke wafted up
In whorls like the cowlicks of oily angels
I just pressed my forehead against the chill window
Still, like I say, I was a little worried
About an earthquake