Refrigerators in Trees

  For BBS

You are finally inside my ring of fire

where my Juan de Fuca plate is

heating up. It is stuck on

your oceanic plate. You are

sliding deep beneath

     making me melt.

You have felt me quake

several times, noted how I made

everything move, lose its bearings,

         even your heart stuck

             on the past

                    glued back together by rage and pills.

So come

dear one, read and touch

      my seafloor.

Count the number and size

of deposits since the last big one.

        Are you seismically prepared?

Do you have early your warning

system in tact? Listen for

the dogs barking a slow

rhythmic howl, feel the surface waves

move us up and

   down, side to side, shaking and

            shattering everything including

                  your bandaged up heart.

Six minutes after the barking

the shaking will subside, everything

     will be upended but

not finished. Then

the wave will come.

       Get yourself to high ground

No time for flashlights even

a kiss on the cheek, follow

the evacuation route

      if you have one.

The tsunami will rise up

from the surface of my sea,

    a deluge of water

drowning or lifting

      everything

will be found in a new location

like refrigerators in trees.

So become bidirectional,

dear one, look deep

    into your past,

count the rings on the trees

of your own ghost forest,

plan for the future

     where we get stuck

on each other. Secure yourself

with something stronger than

glue, medicine, or even anger.

Escape or weather it out

moored to me.