"There's nothing left."
The words pierce my heart at first,
But then bounce off.
There had to be something!
We drive past flattened houses and rubble.
Even the trees were smashed,
Molded to the ground.
I turn to look at our house.
Grandpa's staircase stands,
as if it hadn't been informed
Of any Hurricane.
It climbed steadily up,
to midair.
He always bragged how damn sturdy
Them ol' stairs were.
Taken from the 1996 issue of The Wire Harp.
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