Earthquake

you know what they say during drills.
get under the desk, it’s safe. 
well, I’m the desk,
stuck in the corner as the first wave hits,
the dishes and pots hit the ground, 
my legs threaten to give way but not quite, 

then silence. 
“it’s over,” says the child, 
crawling out from under me. 
I laugh, I work, I study, I write. 
but smile no more,
because a bigger wave is about to come.

I’m not prepared,
not for the breaking, the shaking,
the dramatic screams that call for danger,
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.
except I’m not, 
except my legs crumble under the pressure,

then silence again. 
the mother attempts to glue me back together,
and I stand somehow 
with my wobbly legs and flustered face. 

see, that’s the thing about earthquakes,
they come unexpected,
causing so much destruction in their wake,
then gone like nothing ever happened.