ontology of tsunami

      awoken venom

      cobra come uncharmed

      glittering rush

      of fanged lightning

      that strikes

      and strikes again

      tsunami has no name

      call her the scalded splash

      of tea jarred from

      a broken cup’s cracked glaze

      call her the blood-soaked shirt

      and cutaway pants

      pooled ruby on the floor / rising biohazard

      ill-omened oil that stills

      the wings of birds

      she spills

      and spills

      and spills over

      a sloshed bucket

      tipped-over pitcher

      the bent tin cup’s

      cool sluice of rinse

      poured over skin’s

      delicious prickle

      ginger’s cleansing sting

      erasing the soft flesh of fish

      from the tongue

      she goes by no name

      call her annihilatrix

      call her tabula rasa

      she’s the magic slate’s

      crackling cellophane page

      shellacked wings un-clung

      from staticky black elytra

      the liminal torn-open, turning

      words into invisible birds lifting

      unruly as catastrophe

      yes, but / and …

      (if only, if only—

      meticulous swift precision

      of disaster’s Swiss watch)

      she remains unnamed

      call her the meme

      infecting your screen

      call her the malware

      gone viral