aubade for tornados 

the fossil footprints bring 
their whole bodies. here is where
land opens like a hot dog bun. 
pressing a fork into the sun
to smear yolk over our skin.
you once told me that you 
could smell when the wind 
was about to go out for blood.
bolder grey sky bruising 
with a star beneath. we held
bow & arrows. shot out the eyes 
of an old god who was peeping in
on our froot loop breakfast.
sang like a smashed radio.
tin & string & sour. milking 
the old cow as she dreams
of wings. flying elixir. crawling
into the stone basement where
the house collects all its sorrows.
we hunker down in the vertabrae.
light matches to see glimpses 
of one another's tangerine faces. 
peeling skin free to taste 
each other's sweet flesh. marmalade.
wheat toast. the clouds forming
a crown of wildflowers. laughter
of the harpies. the day breaks
with the help of a can opener.
prying open the lid. here comes 
the legs that snap the windchimes 
from their nooses. 

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