Hurricane Oduma Poem by Auaduma Adookorn

The sky tantalizes, smiles, murmurs and brandishes
a silver-like machete, suddenly, the shepherds led a drove
of black sheep for pasture, ferry tidal bore over the shore with mourning processions of souless clouds

I couldn't grasp the transcendent tragedy; in elusive stretches, it loses and ties her skirt, tears stretches across and sews, strips her transcendent apparel, soaks it in gushing streams of dark dye-- the sky whispers, whistles
and beats drums

Grass of the meadow and trees dance salsa; I watch my little whistle flower, the choirmaster, prostrate sideways, backward and forward commanding the grass, reed and trees-- in accord they dance; i bow, nod and fidget as she sweeps leaves with the broom of laceration--

beheads palms, prunes trees, wraps us with her dark tongue of anaconda-- engulfs grasses, trees, shelters and all; in her belly, a heart-throb cottage, we grope, shriek, call God; we did not mind her brandished snow-white machete slitting undulated quicksilver stretches across the sky, the only pal our snow-puncture thatch sees; we surge, shriek, fall in deep dumb dark-- a reptile shed slough, recede to return us a new dawn.