[Totally Optional Prompts invited us to write about hurricanes or storms or lightning. See the end of this post for a couple of my other poems about storms. See here for other TOP stormy poems.]
Mary Lou’s House
We visited the house on the lake when it was just
a slab and mere suggestion of framing. I fished from
the shore and caught a whale – well, it felt like a whale.
The grown-ups pulled in my carp, said it wasn’t good
to eat and set it free. We grilled hot dogs and ate
“holy” pickles that had mysterious rectangular holes
in the center where the cucumber seeds had been.
The next summer we sat on deep shag carpet (that I was happy
not to vacuum) and we watched the rain. Distant thunder failed
to warn us of the crack that shook our bones.
Blinking away after-images, we watched a giant limb crash to
the lake in slow motion. Sudden and sharp, the night was powerful
and dangerous, and we didn’t sit so close to the window after that.
my other stormy poems:
Ocean Storm
The Transplant
Thursday, June 05, 2008
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5 comments:
Funny how things seem safe from a distance, until they get too close. Sometimes those chidhood memories aren't as exaggerated as they seem.
that really reminds me of storns I've been in, you just don't realise their power till they get real close...
Hi, Stan, and Juliet. Thanks.
Can poetry be powerful and dangerous too? It is in my mind..
Hi, Andy. It sure can be!
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