it runs in the family my father counts tornados with tallies that he etches in a pillar in the living room. i want to tell him he is so doomsday. the tornados are just trying to laugh & besides there's still water left. i got out to feed the tornados. handfuls of cherries for them to red with. these days, i red all the time. dipping my face in bruises. finding a wound in the dirt to talk to. i need a fresh destruction. my father eats new moons & then doesn't open his lips for days. what are you trying to contain? if i shouted like i need to, i'd just disaster this house. the forest would be five tally marks.