a tornado ravages it's way
through the house. its screams pierce walls.
its force splinters tables and clocks.

you can't quell the
storm. but she seizes its pistol, suicide measures
nine millimeters long.

it thrusts a knife at the daughter,
who's pinned to the
corner of
the living

they grapple for the knife

my sister hyperventilates quiet tremors;
the storm fizzled out in liquor bottles
crushed on the tile. mother is resuscitated
come morning. we disremember.
Last edited by Dregen at Mar 6, 2016,
I'm not too sure about the first stanza of this, it's something of a jerky start to what is otherwise a minimal, narrative piece. It's like you wanted to start this in dense metaphor, but couldn't stray far into that for fear of giving away the rest of the piece. Maybe cut that down to just "its screams defeat walls", or give yourself more room to taper off the abstraction into the rest.

I like how you bring this to a close, with the space into the minute quivers of the final stanza.