August 3, 2015 / Creative Writing
A poem about the life/death/life cycle of the seasons and those we love.
March 2, 2017
Nebraska, May 2001
If you don’t like the weather
wait twenty minutes, just like that
from sun to tornado, a wild ride—
home base to the edge of town
where the roads flatten into single-lane gravel
as the Kimball county sign flashes by
in lightning that shows we’re almost there
almost at its heart
almost got it by the throat
a funnel ready to drop from the telltale
wall cloud, all that potential pressure
and if we drive farther
just a bit faster
we may arrive
see that smoky white shard from the heart of God
stretch to scratch its message in a field—
a hieroglyph in dust and root.
Or the wind may shift
that olive green light
all those sure signs
now tricks and winks
leaving us with bones creaking
in the barometric weight of lost chance.
Erin Steinke has had poems published in Diagram, West Wind Review, and other journals. After earning an MA in creative writing from University of California, Davis, she relocated to Seattle and now teaches at Seattle Central College.