Another Hurricane Poem by Francis Dylan Waguespack

tree limbs strewn across a debris-filled riverbed we called our street

Another Hurricane Poem

by Francis Dylan Waguespack

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typical morning orange juice orange yolks smear the
kitchen counter first drops hit like pennies then
nickels then harder something’s tearing
loose next door stilts swaying toilet
spitting slipping on wet floor
wind finds every crack
every fault the house
screams at its
seams

still

lost birds in
broken light windows
gone tree limbs strewn across
a debris-filled riverbed we called
our street power lines sparking setting
fire to the empty house next door someone’s
screaming one block over someone’s screaming
someone’s screaming no no no no screaming no no
no no no one’s coming to help us       at least not for days

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