Could it have been the fallen angel
who sucked the salt from my skin?
The water groaned rhythmically, wood cracked.
The tank crashed, fish spilled over. The roof opened
and the wind danced drunkenly. I saw a child peering
past a rabid boar feasting, tempting innocents to ride its back.
I desperately held her. She asked me, if she’ll see the sun.
Yes, and dust and loss also.
As she escaped my hands, I thought of the others.
Their hearts lurched, one spewed vomit. They awaited the torrent
of navy airplanes, the obituaries of strangers
as I sank into the torpor.
I heard the tiger purring in the fields, it grasped my
chest and locked the ocean inside me.
http://www.callouts.com/Melissa Burton, the co-founder and website developer for LitBridge, lives in Dallas, TX. She has a M.S. in Human Computer Interaction from Iowa State University (ISU).