The Storms

The storm rolls 

across the bed

three rolls 

then a sit up

dazed and lost 

and upset

then collapses 

backwards

in a dead fall

arms splayed

feet splayed

and out cold.

At four I am up 

changing a diaper.

I pull off her lion 

tights that say 

“super cutey”

on the back 

making me wonder 

what hands

from far 

away places 

made this clothing

gifted to us 

so kindly

but likely sewn 

by shaking hands.

I hand them to the storm

and she looks at me

with an expressionless 

expression and tosses them 

onto the floor.

I pick them up 

and hand them back

and she throws them 

down again.

I pick them up 

and toss them 

on her face 

she pulls them off 

giggling in the darkness

and throws them down.

When I finally hand 

her off to her mother

who rolls her back 

into the nest

Lulu the dog decides 

that it’s time to go 

out for a pee

so we creak our 

way down the stairs 

and out into the dying edge 

of the wild storm.

Poop happens

but it doesn't go 

as well as hoped for.

I bring the elder in 

and clean her ass 

with baby wipes.

And this is life

cleaning one ass 

after another 

in the middle 

of the tumbling night.

Once everyone 

is settled 

back on the raft 

and sleeping soundly

I find that I am wide awake.

Downstairs 

washing the dishes 

a small spider 

rappels down 

from the front 

of my cumulonimbus 

hair and stops 

at eye level 

for a moment

before seeing 

my expression of fear 

and quickly dropping 

to the slanting floor. 

And the lightening 

carries on

with its instant

destructions

selecting 

where to burn 

by some fiery

unknown calculus.

Upstairs I look 

in the mirror 

and remember

that I had forgotten 

to remember 

that life cannot 

be controlled.

It comes back to me

like a long lost map

of relief.

All the next day 

thunder storms 

drift over the city

like alcoholics 

after hours

stumbling along 

the black streets.

Somehow a sunset 

happens through 

towering clouds

and a fragile

golden light 

stretches across 

the upper reaches

of what we know.

Well, 

we know more.

We know about dark matter

and cancer and market drift.

We know about systems

to channel energy.

Managing loss.

Systems like gauze

for unstoppable wounds.

Another night

another storm 

moves in.

Back in bed

in the raft

all is quiet

all is dreams.

These people

that I love

have gone 

somewhere 

without me.

I watch them

in wonder.

Each one 

a horizon

lying on her side

like horizons do

slowly breathing

rolling over 

unfolding 

themselves.

I am trying

as I watch them

but I cannot

stop time

before I have to 

leave for work.

The storm fights 

through the south

rumble rumble

or is it the west

rumble rumble?

Far below 

our toy houses 

the almost 

empty giant

buried 

in the dark

listens 

and waits

for water.

More storms 

are coming.

The spring

unfolds.

I cannot forget 

to remember.

.