“Tornado Terror “– a sound poem by Julian Schirripa and Lisa McKibben

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First, we hear on the horizon a low storm forming
– thunder rumble, roll and groan.

Lightning flashes inside fat storm clouds
– kssss, psssh, pppfffkkk, crack, sprack!

The wind starts whistling through the windows
– moaning oooooh oooooh OOOOOOH.

A wall of rain comes drumming, humming
– beating, tapping, pounding, lashing.

Tornado siren screams its warning
– wailing its deep screech of fear.

The twister yeets and hurls sharp objects
– hurtling, piercing, stabbing, wounding.

Missiles fire in all directions
– shooting, shelling, crashing, dashing.

Its funnel vacuums up the buildings
– whooshing, swooshing, sucking.

Playing with power lines like guitar strings
            – twanging, plucking, snapping.

The noise is deafening
– thrashing, battering, skreeeeeeking.

Like fingernails on blackboards scratching
– like scraping sounds of forks on plates.

And just as suddenly, it vanishes
– debris is settling in the brush.

An eeriness descends, is it over?
            – am I safe to go outside?

Huddled in the shelter listening
to the breathing and the pounding of our hearts.

The creak of the door as the shelter opens
– we witness silence, stillness, dread.

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