My mother tells me about her assault

and another storm moves up the cold thigh        of our home. She sleeps through the nightlike something emptied and the sky breaks open. I cradle        each bag of sand into the burlap darkness, stack themover the cellar door. The dishes lifted down to the kitchen        floor. Everything breakable out in the open. It comesfor us and I cannot stop it. Three nails in my mouth        as I hammer the windows closed. The wind wailinglike a newborn. What barrels down our coastline, wants us        dead. The water rising over the seawall like a handover a mouth. All I can do is wait for it to surge under        the front door. The dog bowl floating towardmy mother's bed. My ankles submerged in what can't be        kept out.