WIND STORM
AN AIRPLANE
PASSES BY


I awake in
An empty house

It’s only
A bare residence
Nothing too upsetting

Despite the
Dry spirits
That spit dirt
Into my nostrils
And irritate
My throat

I think I got it
Under control

So I get on
The truck
To drive and
Find a sense
Of purpose

And the streets
Are covered
With fine dirt
That cracks
The skin
On my lips

And I remember
The friendly
Electronic voice
That said
There’s no
Beauty here

And then I comprehend
What I need to
Be looking for