Hurricane WarningAlexis Orgera
Dear Alexis, we are calling to tell you the wind's a wolf outside. There's a storm out here, outside yourself. Outside of you a template for accident, and inside too. We're not lying. We don't believe in luck. It's a myth that the right hand feeds the mouth of the world. We believe in earth, as in silt, water, as in salt bath, and unclaimed sins, which are daily and inevitable. We believe in memory only as a means to instigate disaster. For instance, a man loses his memory and one day out of the gaping blue remembers that he's lost—what an apocalypse in his chest. But, Alexis, a spider crawled into your ear. We saw it, and it laid its eggs in your ear. This is not a legend. In the middle of the night some day soon, you'll hear the crunching sound of a dog pilfering the potato chips inside your skull, and it'll louden until you want to throw your head beneath all eighteen wheels of a tractor trailer. Don't! The spider will crawl out now when the rustling is at its worst. Then you'll be free of the cacophony everyone called your imagination. Blake saw those angels in the tree branch. Oh, he saw them alright, and boy did he get a beating for letting on. Alexis, don't let them beat you. We called about the hurricane, but you may predict that yourself what with the oceans balmy, jungles sucked bone dry and spewed out again like lukewarm disciples. We called twice and left messages. You didn't answer or call back. Now we're worried about you, your faithlessness in the face of demolition. We're worried about your salvation. Alexis, what do you believe in but sadness and circumference? How can you walk in a hurricane and not get wet?
Alexis Orgera Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2021, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|