Back then, we ate so many home fries that
I thought we might turn into houses —
homes that I'll never see again.
Throwing darts at the map,
ripping pages of the atlas out,
and then eating up the places
that would've chewed me up and spat me back out.
My grandmother, so afraid of lightning,
sat in the cemetery on the night of the tornado.
And now I'm also underground —
alive, sheltered from another storm,
but wondering what I'll see
when I try to go back home.
