So much you break
the windows of your home
with the blunt force
of your will
to live—
though the house treads water,
and devastation
like a muddy choke surrounds you
where your life, your loved ones, used
to breathe—
imagine wanting to live
so much—
you crawl to the roof
and you hunch
and you hold
and you wait
and you watch
and you wonder
how many bodies
human
nonhuman
dead
almost dead
are cremated
in the flood’s current
and you pray to your will to live
and you pray to the storm
and you pray to tomorrow
to let you live,
please
let me live.
If you look close enough
on the roof of any storm,
you’ll find
someone who wants to live.
Kristin Yates is an award-winning poet, artist, cat cuddler, and work in progress from Lewisville, North Carolina. Her poems have appeared in Tiny Seed Journal, Beyond the Veil Press, Writerly Magazine, Unstamatic, Campfire Poets, Scavengers, Green Ink Poetry, Last Leaves Magazine, and others.
