Quake

an innocent prompt for free form poetry by Fiona Bridges gifted me with this line ‘unable to make a plan’ and the thing just got away from me. Or through me.

---

Unable to make a plan

while the ground refuses

to stop shaking everything

to pieces and confusion.

Outside in the street

earth ruptures and cracks yaw

then close with suddenness

like a venus fly trap

around fallen cars and trees

Has it only been a minute?

Seems like hours now

but all we can do

is sprawl on the floor,

fingernails clawing the tile

hoping for more purchase

but only breaking nails.

Time stretches further.

The porch groans like

a dinosaur, low, throaty

as it shears from our house

and falls into a fissure.

Janey loses her grip

And her body follows

the tilt of the floor

toward the hole where

the porch once was.

Arms grasping, mouth an O

I let go with one hand

and reach for her

but it’s too late

and I see it, in her eyes,

as her feet cross the

threshold.

No.

I let go completely and lunge.

Grasp her fingertips.

Then a wrist. Nothing

will stop us as we slide

inexorably toward the

fissure. At least, we

will go together.

And as our legs dip

into the hungry earth, the

shaking quits. Like it

never happened.

We scramble back from

the edge and cling

to each other. Tears

and ragged breath

and hearts bursting

with all we can’t say

until our lungs grasp

more oxygen. Love

You, I manage. Maybe.

We should get. Some

distance from. This edge?

She smiles. Yeah. That.

Sounds good.