The Gravity (v. 2)

The Gravity (v. 2)

When the earth shakes in earthquakes,
I lump under the kitchen table,
watch the apples hum in a bowl
on the counter, a glass of water skate
off the end to the sink, and I blink
with the clap of glass and metal,
slap my ears shut when the roof flaps off
the frame of this home in an earthly yawn.

The walls scream in splits forming cracks,
vertical slices sprouting like dark hairs,
and through my hands, I watch them grow.
The whole world in a growl, a snap of life,
everything dances, mumbles, and skitters
to corners and untouched inches.

I tighten to a knot, doubled over,
and I'm static, a nailed down statue
with a broken chip of marble at my carved feet.