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From Here to the Middle of Nowhere

We passed through Joplin, Missouri
Two days before the tornado struck

A four-way intersection was once a
Perfect geometry of ninety-degree angles

The crisp grass groomed pavements
Lining one bedroom ranch homes with plastic siding

Warning bells rung like a blender of stones
Undercurrents from sirens toppled church steeples

Tacky fingers and dentured mouths scattered to
Basements and bathtubs like hornets back to a nest

Now there’s dust everywhere, the sky one swath of dusty rose,
lawns littered with patched quilts, sand buckets, car keys

Someone, somewhere is looking for her
Reading glasses, but there’s nothing to see

Even when the sun shines down,
The horizon’s not there anymore
Posted 03/04/13
This poem first appeared in 10X3 Plus, Issue 7.
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