twister

some of us were afraid of sharks because of jaws
bigger than our own, and the movie. for others
spiders or boogie mans or shadows or monsters did it.

but for my brother and i, it was the UPS truck.
i'm telling you the hulk of that brown metal, the open
door a man could fall from, viewing legs with hair

that waved in the wind from the backseat of our station--
wagon we covered our eyes. we didn't care
if our presents from grandma came from those trucks.

we wanted to bury them in the backyard like soldiers.
(that's another thing. soldiers. we killed them in wars
and then buried them. not like other kids, who kill

the same figures over and over. we knew dead was
dead, and once was enough to make a poor guy die,
so we buried em all in rows marked with starbursts,

we cared that much.) we'd dig a hole big enough for a truck
but halfway through the project mom got mad and said
if we dug any deeper we had to throw all our toys

in the hole and fill in the hole. so that stopped us.
same day, the UPS man brought a box of cookies
from five states away, aunt vanessa, and i moved on

to a bigger fear. tornadoes. woke screaming,
dizzy, thinking we were swept into the air and who knew
when we'd be bashed down, my blood so noisy i thought

the freight train sound that came with a tornado.
after the seventh night my father carried me kicking
scratching to the backyard and turned on the light.

the trees wore dark clothes. porch eerily cool and the mint without moths.
no tornadoes. i didn't know whether to be more afraid
that there weren't any, or that there might be any time.

-- Deborah Brandon

My first commissioned work of art. Thank you so much!
(As long as patronage is this friendly and lovely and such an honor I would like to do it forever. A good reason to become wealthy.)