NELLE 6 | 2023
We rode our bikes through the tunnel.
Parting the darkness.
It wasn’t supposed to exist there
in the city. But there were other shelters,
the pigeon coop and the warm garage
with puddles of glistening oil.
We drank the water from the hose
after it was turned off
and there were only drops left.
Then we hid in the basement
from the tornado,
trying on the old dresses
from storage
and clattering around
in heeled shoes.
Walking over the drain pipe
our eyes bulged with the sight
of water.
We found safety
in the places that hid us.
On the phone
mother talks about war.
We found safety
in the darkness
that made us invisible.
We found safety
from the news.
The wind gusted through
the rain, rustling it
like hair, drops parting
against the sidewalk.
We felt water course
through our bodies like waves,
our bodies the beach.
Maybe you will find shelter
in us.