Goddess Of Floods, Tornados, And Earthquakes Poem by David Kowalczyk

Her braided hair hangs
like great black ropes.
She cracks her knuckles
twenty times per waking hour.


She was born with an audio
anomaly. Mozart's Requiem
blares through her skull
whenever her world quiets.
Consequently, she is addicted
to loud noises.
Birth also blessed her
with supernatural stigmata.
Her eyelids and lips are gun-metal gray.


In kindergarten, she mastered
the art of photosynthesis.
Every October, she sustains herself
with sunlight, water, and air.
The remainder of days, she ets
only krill and kelp.


Her smile is a tiny torn star.
Her voice is full of dusk and brandy.
Her heart cradles howling beauty.
Her coul, the bittersweet wisdom of pearls.