Storm

Key West, Florida

Though the green coconuts seem safe

in the trees, as winds pick up, I wonder,

perhaps something is coming once again.

Out on my deck I am still, just witnessing

as the sweet smell of Plumeria flowers

quickly shifts to the dark smell of rain.

An anxious rooster hurries to shelter,

the palms flap their monstrous fronds

and suddenly I’m afraid—moving indoors

I watch the wind get wild and tip over

a pink bike and knock down a chair.

Then the rain arrives: hard, deliberate,

driving itself straight into the ground.

I cower alone in the house, ugh, not again—

now the outdoor couch cushions are sailing,

and a tree is yanked up, exposing its roots.

I feel my small self lifting from the ground,

but this time I don’t resist, I let myself go

to wherever it is I go in these storms,

often not to return for months on end—

knowing I’ll come back to comb these streets

for every single last fallen coconut;

I’ll wrap them in blankets, take them home,

and nourish myself on their bitter milk.

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Jodie Hollander