Smug

(Mmmm, inhale)

My breath is the Trade Winds

Shifting over the warm Atlantic

Pressure drops in my throat

Like a sinking anchor

The sky is the color of a rusted Buick

Heavy with the weight of what I cannot say

I am the Great Sphinx

Waiting for the desert to move

I am the Supercell

Rotating

I am the Pentagon of rage

A fortress of turning air (Spinning, turning)

The wall cloud descends like a guillotine

My pulse is the New York Stock Exchange

A map of frantic, red numbers

I leak heat like the Deepwater Horizon

Black and thick and impossible to plug

I am the Tunguska Event

Flattening the pines of my own resolve

The hail falls

The size of the Cullinan Diamond

Breaking the glass of your expectations

It is structural

It is the Maginot Line failing

I am the tectonic plate

Sliding under the weight of the sea (Tectonic, violent, the snap)

I am the Supercell

Rotating

I am the Pentagon of rage

A fortress of turning air

The wall cloud descends like a guillotine

Scouring the topsoil

I am the Dust Bowl

Plowing it all back to the root (The root, the beginning, nothing left but the dirt)