Everything's Fine
The storm’s moved east, pulling
its thunder toward LaCrosse
leaving behind meaning-
ful falls of glass

and branch, the openings
a day made in the house. 
Now the wind makes rain
from leaves, showers

again as afternoon
enters with the street noise
and sirens.  Almost none
of outside goes

here, but the weather’s damp
presences—elm leaves, birch—
don’t mind the basement sump
pump as it works

this world dry.  And we turned
out to be afraid when
the lightning lighted the sink,

the ranges of our bright
domesticities, how
unused to the way air
smells we are,

when the storm’s passed
and the walls have fallen
and someone calls to see
if we’re ok.

CULLEN BAILEY BURNS  lives in Minneapolis, MN. Her second book, Slip, is forthcoming from New Issues Press in 2013. Her first book, Paper Boat, was a finalist for a Minnesota Book Award in poetry, and her poems have appeared widely, recently in The Denver Quarterly, Rattle, Zone 3 and others. She teaches English at Century College and keeps bees who make State Fair ribbon winning honey.