The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Victoria Kohn Michels

Tornado
           
A bird stops
singing,
while a couple
sit on their porch
and listen, as they
always do on Fridays.
They see a neighbor
across the street
in his underwear,
running out of the
house to stop his
wife from driving,
and the sky is a
clear star, no hail
no rain, no fear,
but the sounds of a train
louder, behind what
used to be woods,
closer, the
eye is blue on
one side of town,
black on the other,
in minutes, homes
unfold, naked,
everything in
splintered wood.
How can a stranger
know the value of
photographs lost,
while a box of San
Giorgio macaroni

lies perfect and whole

in the dirt?

From the Porch