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Tornado

 

Before you know it, the earth takes on
an extra layer of skin.

The wind is whipping, whistling,
and when you look outside, you realize

this is how everything
communicates: We speak. We destroy.

And then it’s over. The world

may have a few more years—and then
all the buildings

and swing sets and tornado shelters
will be empty. Instead, our bodies

will all be scattered, our frames
saying, Enough noise.

The earth will take its time in burying its dead.

 

 

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