The Monday Poem logo

The Monday Poem is brought to you by Professor Kristin Bensen-Hause of the English Department. Enjoy!

Tornado Child

BY KWAME DAWES,
For Rosalie Richardson

I am a tornado child.
         I come like a swirl of black and darken up your day;
         I whip it all into my womb, lift you and your things,
         carry you to where you’ve never been, and maybe,
         if I feel good, I might bring you back, all warm and scared,
         heart humming wild like a bird after early sudden flight.

I am a tornado child.
         I tremble at the elements. When thunder rolls my womb
         trembles, remembering the tweak of contractions
         that tightened to a wail when my mother pushed me out
         into the black of a tornado night.

I am a tornado child,
         you can tell us from far, by the crazy of our hair;
         couldn’t tame it if we tried. Even now I tie a bandanna
         to silence the din of anarchy in these coir-thick plaits.

I am a tornado child
         born in the whirl of clouds; the center crumbled,
         then I came. My lovers know the blast of my chaotic giving;
         they tremble at the whip of my supple thighs;
         you cross me at your peril, I swallow light
         when the warm of anger lashes me into a spin,
         the pine trees bend to me swept in my gyrations.

I am a tornado child.
         When the spirit takes my head, I hurtle into the vacuum
         of white sheets billowing and paint a swirl of color,
         streaked with my many songs.

Dawes, Kwame. “Tornado Child.” 2001. Midland, Ohio Uni P, 2001, Poets.org, www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50988/tornado-child. Accessed 21 Feb. 2019.

Tags: