before the next storm

by Kevin A. Risner

The moments, minutes

before the next storm slides onshore

hold a narrow slice of heaven

An anticipation that mirrors

the cutting of giant circular cakes

or ones that look like inanimate objects

Cats, eyes, boots, onions

whatever the thing is, it’s been videoed

for viewers to wait

The knife lowers to make the incision

and out pours the rain, a water-

fall that way hasn’t been seen for years

Who wouldn’t stay put as the lines

touch cloud to ocean

highlight this connection as noticeable

as a mustard stain on red blouse?

The true nature of weather, the climate

and its portentous portents:

Is it you who’s become a seer?

Auguring layers of rock to tell us

this century is the one that plummets us

into the abyss for good? My dream

this year doesn’t depend on viruses.

It depends on who survives the fallout.

Kevin A. Risner is the author of multiple poetry chapbooks. The most recent are: Do Us a Favor (Variant Literature, 2021) and You Thought This Was Just Gonna Be About Cleveland, Didn't You (Ghost City Press, 2022).