Storms

Storms

For my mother

You, with your
Mouth drawn tight and your fingers
Fast on a keyboard, you seem
So lost in your own private storm.
You can’t feel the winds that rip
From your mouth, scarcely notice the
Words they carry.

Do you dance
In your rain?
Once while spinning
On the warm summer sidewalk I
Watched the chalk-pictures drain their rainbow
Through my pink-painted toes,
And I
Thought I might have glimpsed
A little happiness.

Do you sing louder
Than your thunder?
When I was swinging in a spring
Thunderstorm, I let my voice seek the
Bluebirds and their bright feathers, the ground
Falling from under my mud-stained feet as song
Lifted me through that
Crack in the storm where the sun
Seeps through. And
I found a
Silver lining in the angry,
Tight-pulled words that brought me
Out into a summer storm, wishing
That you were here with me. Annalee Kwochka