I like how the air pressure drops in the center of the poem. Tornadoes make me think of Kansas and the movie “Twister” and Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Dusty in that movie. And of how Nature neither cares about us, or wished us malice. It is simply amoral.
The Tornado
By Norman H. Russell
just when he said the tornado
is now located at and moving at miles per hour
the television set went black
black as the sky black as death
black as the hell outside
black as the closet we groped into
falling all down with blankets and dresses
clutching each other our hearts pounding
loud as the pounding of the wind on the windows
gasping for breath holding our breath
like the wind outside roaring and pausing
then the great chunking of the short thunder
imprisoned in the small black animal
of a cloud rushing among the oak trees
went on east we heard it go we heard it talking
to the people in the eastern houses
and we sat still holding each other
still a long time yet in the black closet
slow to come back from the black
from the death in the teeth of the tornado.
