Cannot do the dishes so now today is piled on top of yesterday,
two full plates clanking together like teeth in a nightmare.
I’m afraid something will break, what is inside will spill over.

Yesterday’s sky was the color of ash.
Trees whipped against the windowpane. The TV flickered in
and out in indecision, the white W in the corner of the screen,

words that occasionally flowed over the top of sitcom actors,
a beeping noise interrupted their punch lines. An interruption
from the meteorologist, his hand pointing to a storm moving in,

the weather map covered in pulsating colors of what is expected
to come. Here is the storm, his hand points to a bulging purple spot
that has taken over the screen.

This week I have not been able to concentrate. I cannot read,
cannot focus when I’m teaching. My student’s voices overlap—
my own voice is broken by static.

This morning my students stared out the window waiting
for the weather to change. We all want to shut down today
like the stores did last night, the roads dark and uncertain,

without neon lights, without traffic signals to tell us
when to go. There were accidents, trees blocking the way,
certain things we just could not get around.