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
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.