There was a tremor
As in San Francisco
Or Lisbon. And Pengall
Watched as the
Dust shook him upward
To the heavens
From his cradle.
They’d said they’d mow
All the lawns (a
Figure in their speech
For death itself)
Before he bearing up
Could reach apples.
The shaking that had
Shaken him came and went
Again. He stood.
Stirred a muscle at a time
Until (this time)
He saw the adult remains
Of the two towns
Gripping the coastal hills.
Pengall mused on the girls
He loved there: his mother.
And his real mother
Giving birth to him.
