it took a category four hurricane
to bring myself to reach out to you
the rest of the family found it so easy
falling right back in to the collective concern
a strange form of togetherness in the old
pre-divorce group messages

we listed you on the missing persons lists
scoured the boards of Facebook in nearby counties
called the neighbors who might know something
but couldn’t get through the spotty connections
all the cell phone towers toppled under water

I wondered if you were sitting in your small home
alone with the orange cat you stole from our father
atop a pile of your parent’s furniture with water pouring all around
if you had time to consider all the choices
that brought you to that remote town
in a state where no one knew you
how you thought running away would make
the greatest statement and splash among peers
announcing how you had finally found yourself
somewhere in Appalachia
among the old moonshine stills
and older growth forests

trading all the messes you left back home
for the chaos of a coast
overwhelmed with flooding

I wanted to scream across the crowded phone lines
into the ether of mudslides and salvation army aid stations –

was it worth all the pain? was it worth having your
ex-husband help you move across the country? was
it worth it seeking friendship in women half your age
because that was where your maelstrom of
maturity finally
came to lie?

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