so, it's been awhile,
and no i'm not on okp at 3am...i'm residing in hong kong for a hot second.
this is an old piece, but i'm wondering if i should add it to a portfolio
that i'm submitting to a contest. the profs at school like it, but what do they know?


One Mississippi Two Mississippi

When we were kids, storm clouds
formed beneath collared shirts,
beyond buttons and breast pockets,
cumulonimbus in our father’s chest.

The mist rose after work
with a misplaced shoe, a startled nap.
Had we stomped on the stairs, slammed a door, forgot to say please,
vapor scaled his legs.

All that moisture rumbled all evening in his lungs
till someone, unforgivably dumb,
left the oven on or rolled their eyes.

Now, we know the ways of lightning,
how it can split you in half
if you stand out in the open, alone.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi
we counted the miles
between his voice and thunder claps.
Wind beat against his chest.
He chewed hail the size of golf balls,
spat it to the floor.
It ended with a silence that whirred in our ears.

The rain season lasted the whole of our childhoods.
We held our umbrellas, we slept behind hills,
I sewed my brothers’ mouths shut
and we waited for the arrival of floods, tall enough
to wash us away.


soul.