Bethany Jarmul

Storm Arrives at My House

Storm’s cumulus clouds combine into mountains,
gaining strength, deepening in hue. Storm’s breath

whips leaves into a violence. The radio squawks tornado,
but I can’t hear if it’s watch or warning, nor do I know

the difference, just that it’s time to leave everything behind—
even my boots & jacket. I welcome water & wind,

walk toward the soul of Storm until I reach a field of asters.
I lie down, spread my arms, embrace Storm

like a lover I once lost to a gust.

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