Sally Bliumis-Dunn – I
Earthquake
Buildings were trees, ghosts
of trees, swaying like the last few
couples on a dance floor.
We watched the footage–
some dream where the simple homey
floor of a room
is suddenly silvered,
wind-blown lake, but still a room.
And we watched
with the helplessness of the waking, pale
walls of a bedroom slowly
coming into view.
Buildings were trees, ghosts
of trees, swaying like the last few
couples on a dance floor.
We watched the footage–
some dream where the simple homey
floor of a room
is suddenly silvered,
wind-blown lake, but still a room.
And we watched
with the helplessness of the waking, pale
walls of a bedroom slowly
coming into view.