Sonnet That Ends With the Speaker on the Toilet

I need to feel safe but our dirt basement
is an inadequate storm shelter if
a tornado hits, jars of pickled beets
from years ago collect dust on the mud
shelves. Each time a red warning flashes on
the TV, I end up in the bathroom.
From the other side of the door, my mom
and sisters tease me saying, it sounds like
a train’s coming. Or, that funnel cloud’s too
close to the ground. I cry because I might
die with my pants down and no one tells me
it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.
Instead, someone jimmies open the door,
snaps my picture while I’m on the toilet.

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