Aftershock
We link hands, w our necks.
a e to
t r in tones of black up
It carries rubble
to its detriment,
f
l
i
p
s
yachts and boats,
kneading bones of homes
between salty fingers
of a mad ocean hand.
We stand, face masks small
b
a
r
r to great nuclear power,
i
e
r
s
silenced, for a moment, by ocean water
dropped from frantic
h
s e
r l
e i
t c
p o
in hopes to cool the cores.
Aftershocks bre ak foundation locks,
rock buildings’ backs against the sky.
—Nichole Rued, Wisconsin Rapids, WI
