Prayers from the Living
It whips legs, spins minds in a tumbler.
roars with the discarded clothes
of mad clowns.
Bundles of fine bones and twirling feathers
burst apart in a random turmoil,
deer swim toward a gasping night.
A mottled land shakes its muddy ribs.
as a whittling wind hammers on.
The sky has opened a double-lidded,
dragons' eye,
a pitiless tornado is upon us,
it lands to lift and discard,
then dances with the bobbing dead.
All who dodge that swirling danger,
thank a God,
who like us, shelters in His bunker.
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