...just a grip in the dark, in the walk-in,
six adults in a cooler in the middle of a nation
with almost no ears left, and certainly no roof. Barely
walls when we got out. A foot of wall
hardly. Just a mess—paper cups and brick,
that one sobbing girl, scoops, void of wind...

Tornado at the Dairy Queen
Arielle Greenberg
Poetry Daily August 23, 2003