photo by hungrybison

In the cool dampness,

below the house,
the kids rest in silence.

The grownups are huddled together,
in the grip of fear,
with crooked faces,
and vomit in the back of their throats.

They’ve done this before.

Flash lights and batteries,
canned meat,
a bucket for piss.

A dog barks at the reinforced door.

The twisters are coming



Filed under American West, creative writing, History, original writing, photography, poem

2 responses to “Nebraska

  1. Enjoy reading your work.

    Have a good day.

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