Wind The wind started out in catastrophe, there wasn’t a way to hold on to the house, the beams and shingles weren’t in my memory. A project gone undone under the levee. Our entire lives were swivelled upside down. The wind started out in catastrophe. An almost-home habitat awaited our homecoming. But now, a home we’ll have to do without. The beams and shingles weren’t in my memory. Power lines spark the limbs of the tree, electricity lives on in fire, a skyline murmur sound. The wind started out in catastrophe. The storm steeped deep in earth’s glee and whooshed away my diamond gown. The beams and shingles weren’t in my memory. The water filled the house and carried it away with us within without. The wind started out in catastrophe. These beams and shingles weren’t in my memory.
Alexander P. Garza is from Houston, TX, but resides in Chicago IL. His work can be seen in Toyon, Indianapolis Review, Dissections, Star*Line, and others. He was awarded the 2019 Dark Poetry Scholarship Award by the Horror Writers Association, was commissioned by the Museum of Fine Arts Houston and Tintero Projects for work inspired by their Latin American Exhibit: Play and Grief, and he has worked on and offstage at the Alley Theatre, Houston Grand Opera, Main Street Theater, and Mildred’s Umbrella Theatre Company.