At midnight the storm picked up.
El Niño winds keeping me wide awake.
pulling my sister and I out of bed
to play in the black summer air.
We used the scattered branches as timber daggers
to fight our mother’s demons
shaped like shadows.
Pale skin shining in the August moonlight
we danced as the wind blew hair into our eyes
We tried to distract her from the incoming sunrise
hoping that would be enough to keep her.
I used to think my mother would always show me
the magic of the universe.
But twigs don’t stand a chance to monsters.