Preparing For Disaster

With every approaching storm,

the media drones like a plane overhead,

littering the airwaves with detailed promises

of what one needs to survive.

An obedient citizen,

I store batteries and bottled water

beside neat rows of tuna and soup,

believing myself safe

as long as I have duct tape.

I never questioned the wisdom

of preparing, never linked

the responsible stash of supplies

to picturing

the tallest structures in my horizon

collapsing in rubble

on a warm September day.

Until I sat in a room

with a sink and a scale,

watching a loved one moan

on a cushioned table.

My faith in bottled water has expired.

I can’t be comforted by duct tape.


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