I know what the east wind felt like

on the plains,

the dry earth.

I know what it felt like

alone at the edge of the city

with uneasy anticipation

waiting for machine thunder

to roll in the sky.

I sat peaceably.

watching the window

in earnest.

A flash

fell gently on

the still

of

my town,

next door.

In a box

my size,

arms by

my side

immobile.

Then the east wind rained on me.

A fierce wind. Strong and fierce.

The kind that carries cattle across

State lines and drops them,

sucks lakes dry.

The wind that throws homes

to the ground

and tosses babies

arbitrarily.

I felt stac-

atto vibrations

rumbl-

ing. Echoes

carried off

The sand.

I knew what flashes meant.

And daylight came in instances.

A blink that lit the city up.

The glow of the city changing.

A quiet red and orange,

quiet human red.

And impact, and impact, and impact, and impact

in wicked cadence and

a searing flame.

And impact and impact

An echo

An impact.