Saturday, July 09, 2005

Hurricanes in Florida

Hurricanes are a Southern familiar. This poem was first presented at the SEBA trade show in September, 2004, when I read as part of the late night readings sponsored by Simon and Schuster. Admittedly, paganism and Christianity dance with me at times concurrently,largely owing to my ancestry. At any rate, the poem seems appropriate at the moment.

Our last weather update forecasts a lot of rain, wind and possible tornadic activity--we're on the East coast, so at the moment, it looks like the mother storm will miss us, dealing us only the outer bands.

Storm Warning

Two loaves of bread shine on the shelf at Winn-Dixie.
Bread is valuable, because another hurricane
is aiming at Florida. Store aisles fill
with seekers of water and ice, and canned food
that will be eaten only if She hits us. Brown
black and white we smile with more nice
than normal. Our words shape fear into chuckles.

One man says, “I’m not going anywhere.
I die I die right here.” Our hands inspect apples
and melons. “Can’t nothin’ be bad as Andrew.”

We savor the comfort of lies. “This,” says a woman
cradling oranges, “is the price we pay for living in Paradise.”
Reassured by bread and batteries, we nestle in the arms
of our she-storm—watchful—wide-eyed
siblings taking turns at Mother’s bitter breast.


Lovelace Cook said...

Dear Kay,

I checked on Joe and Suzanne's blog and saw your comment. So it was through your kind wishes that I arrived here.

This hurricane business is for the birds. I am exhausted from boarding and blanketing windows, packing computers and all things electronic, caging cats and making sofa pillow nests for dogs, etc., etc.

Thinking of you and proud of you for your blog. Mine has long been neglected.

All the best,

Lovelace Cook

Gypsy Queen Cab

Kay Day said...

Lovelace, thanks so much. Always wonderful to see you.

To be honest, this blog is an escape hatch for me. When the book biz weighs me down, blogging floats me back to the top!

Best to ya,