Storm

The week
after I found
another woman’s fingerprints
all over my home.

After the storm
of begging
and bended knees
had passed.

a tornado hit the coast of Oregon.

The wind howling
like it had something to grieve.

Back home, a tree branch
crashed through my mother’s window.
and isn’t that how
it always goes?

You spend years building a home
just to watch it destroyed in seconds.

In the time it takes to say

I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to
find out
like this,
but she loves me.