Florida, 1960

by Chris Bullard

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We lived on a narrow barrier island
that we knew was there to hold things back.
We didn’t talk about what was expected,
confident that any disturbing waves
would be blocked out, eroding tides kept
at respectable levels, storms tamped down.
When the hurricane hit we had to consider
whether the ground might shift from under us.
Ours was the last car to cross the causeway
before it closed. Dad wouldn’t chance
leaving what he knew was ours. Swaying
in the maddening wind, I heard my mom
raise her voice for the first time to him,
shouting, “You’re going to get us killed.”

end of story

© 2024, Chris Bullard “Survival” by Chris Bullard