Tornado Season

The sun will be setting in a few hours,
but it’s still high enough to feel guilty
about being in pajamas.

We watch movies about being and spirituality.
My chest burns yet I keep on feeding my habit.

She is shaving her legs now.
“We’re exciting people, man.”

My back hurts: slouched and slumped shoulders.
The kitchen is bare; pancakes sit on the counter
getting cold and stale.

We’re not hungry.
I am always hungry.

I want a drink and the control
to not constantly move my hands
towards my mouth.

We are two hours behind in the future.

Our legs hurt;
we stretch them out.

Blankets and water make
moving this slow acceptable.

And then we’re okay.

Stacey Renberg

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