Tornado:

Electric white,

light floods the sky

a strike of lightening attacks

cool sand twice

a drizzle of rain

falls in a pitter-patter way

the rhythm of two heartbeats

sounds as if it

pulses with the warning

of the tornado’s drum

Blond hair like a flash

of moonlight against

the grey sky

‘A storm’s a’ coming deary’ says the old man next door

her blue eyes never leave the ground

‘I’ve got to find my dolly, Sir.’

The morning after; a photographer

in dirty kakis and old Tom’s

finds his way to the heart of the damage

forever captures a piece of straw

that has cut straight through a metal telephone pole

the dirty swamp has washed ashore

a flash of yellow, the snap of the shutter

he bends to examine the stark colors

of red stained dirt, silver metal, blond hair

and a girl clutching onto her dolly