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Why we do not name tornadoes

by Matthew Zangen

I am still growing
to greeting my father
in photographs,
how young he looks
when he was older
than I think
I am
and I am
like him
When we see each other
we are children
hiding between houses
that prayed for newborns, growing
 like we are already falling
arms open
like a bedroom ceiling.


Posted on 08/04/2022
Copyright © 2022 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Linda Fuller on 08/27/22 at 04:28 PM

Liking this.

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