By Geoffrey Zimmerman

The ground beneath her feet

Was merely a point of reference

Up and down mattered little

From years of tasting the hurricane

She had irrevocably opened her doors

To invite it in

Far and near,

Then and now ablur

Had he left with purpose to throw her awry/?

Or

Had he been swept up to be carried away?

To leave her – as detritus – as rubble

My new day was a cup

Spilt

Overflowing

Broken

Teetering

Barely an aim to my archer’s quiver

And my cup meant nought when her tornado of life

Pulled my head

I was swept in

The stream will not flow up with no reason

And the bird shall not fly inverted

I rang the alarm

Come forth

She is off – like a top

Let’s set her right

The tempest does feed on itself

On those within – and those near

I came in

And then unleashed the stables

To assist

To soften

To slow

The spin

And she looked – through blurry eyes

At my heart

My arms

And she saw sabers

Saw chains

And they neared

For I had rung the bell

To come save her

To stop the tempest

And I left

She alone

She begone

She a-spinning

To meet the men

To rake the path

And they did show

And they did drill

But as I fretted

My flag a-ready

To point the way

She rose up

And reentered the tempest

And it pounded her

And threw her down

To the stone

And her head

Her eyes

Her voice

Her ears

Did bounce

Like a coconut against a sharp rock

And my heart did still

And my eyes did flare

And my legs did rush

And my hand was to her shoulder

And they came

They all did come

As if a war

Did she unleash

And they said nought

But laid a path for me

And said to me go

We have her now

Her tempest was mine

And still is.