Ruin
was rumored
to be rooming
up the roadwhere
a neighbor’s barn’dburned down.
The forecast had not predicted it,and its beginning, a calming, rumbled dusk
and pleasant lightning, she welcomed as harbinger
With a squeal, the alreadyotherworldly broadcaststuttered,scattered,leavingonly a tattered hiss.
In the patient, quiet museum, she is exhibitedclosed, indehiscent inside a glass casket,
reclining on her back, on hair long as her spine.
