a tornado comes to Garrett Hill

gray outstretched arms

waving without and within,

a song sent over the ridge

ridge-crest-covering crescendo,

ripping siding from wall-sides

snapping the breath from my dried lips…

face to the ground, face to the ground…….

a glob of bright red acrylic paint

and a whispering, a whispering above my ears

the breath of God came and took her

though the body on the tailgate…

these tears painting are painting her face


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