If I were telling the story, it would go like so:
the first time, the force of their meeting shocked
body waves to circle the globe. All peaceful beaches
vanished in the storm surge.
They shared sensibility with natural disasters:
mutual zones of weakness and ferocity
that alter landscapes forever.
Push down through tight spaces. Pry free passion
wrapped round withheld wishes, layered-deep desires.
Dig out while you still can. So little warning
once the waves are on their way.
shadow zone: an area of the Earth's surface where seismographs cannot detect P waves and/or S waves from an earthquake.
grew up in Colombia and lives and teaches in New England. Her work has appeared in Red Dancefloor, The Sow’s Ear, Beltway Poetry Quarterly and Glacial Hills Review, among others.