Metallic solid but fluid both

the green-yellow surreal air

that followed in its wake,

heavy with the burning bitter smells

of ozone, painful death and destruction.

Poor baby  Quarter Horse colt

became a memory badge

that would never go away,

standing on three legs,

while the fourth front leg

dangled helplessly,

his once beautiful brown eyes

suspended  by the cords on his cheeks,

my God, little fellow,

we never knew

how the eyes would be.

But there were the eyes

pulled from the sockets

over and over again,

even on the cat,

somehow squashed

by the wind’s hammer

on the farmyard path.

Both houses gone,

a thunder of destruction

that he had to withstand

firing the rifle over and over,

the animals’ release from misery,

more horses,

more cattle,

a hundred hogs stacked,

like cordwood up a draw,

their backs split open

in orderly fashion

as if with a giant meat saw.

Smart dog came home

unhurt  five days later.

Pure white and pale

 with promised fury,

a hideous giant V,

the F4 began in the west

filling its raging gullet

with the black of its destruction,

poor Cal and Claire,

she on the phone with her sister,

saying, “ There’s a terrible storm here,

and I think we should go

to the basement,

but Cal’s laughing at me,”

sad irony of ironies,

their mangled bodies found later

In a pond across the road

driven through with glass.

And at the colt’s farm,

my Uncle came from the barn

carrying the milking machines,

and saw the rage coming

across the prairie pasture.

He called my Aunt and Cousin

to the crawl space

beneath the house

where their feet  were carried

In the air while they

cried in silence beneath the roar,

and gripped the water pipes,

 Aunt's bruised flesh

 squeezed in place

by the bending water heater.

Terror of terror

when leaving the place

the tail looked to be

 coming back at them,

but it was revolving

around its center.

Then they ran,

my how they ran,

down the road to Grandma’s place.

while twister raced

for murder in Topeka.

Blonde hair stayed brown,

driven with dirt

for six months

despite the washing,

and the same with the pieces

In the skin.

The birthday cake

from the kitchen table

was found unscathed

near a glacial till hill

a half-mile away.

Too many animals were gone,

and the broken tree limbs

on twisted trunks

 sighed In night winds to come

that a tornado terror twilight

never can be undone.

But Love lifted them

as He’s done for generations,

and they lived,

had babies,

worked from sun to sun,

kept the faith,

despite knowing,

such a time could come again.

 Copyright 2008, Jerry W. Engler