Fallout

 

Dead grass breaks off
In the wind
Of a storm that’s been forming
For 200 years
(Give or take).
My shadow runs back to me
Away from the openness of the road.
And another much larger than my own 
Envelops the broken ground before me.
In the presence of loose papers and rusted down
Cars, I am the only one left to tremble in
The flashes of light 
Carried in by heavily ladened
Blue clouds, smelling of pennies and
Tasting of blood in my mouth.
I quicken toward the promise of shelter,
Peeling yellow paint with no door
Broken glass in the windows, half caved in
I huddle on a mattress 
In the corner to wait out the howls
With the roaches.