category five

I am a Category One,

this low-level hurricane of wind and rain,

bleating at the trees and huffing at the water.

I'm a Category Two, I'm punching things:

I see your sea walls, and I try my strength against you,

but I'm still knee-deep, you back off, you slosh away.

The water coalesces in my head; it confuses me.

I dream of whirlpools: a sucking into the depths.

I'm a Category Three, maybe;

I'm the definition of limbo, shrugging helplessly --

not strong enough to destroy.

In my head are the oceans and the rivers,

a maelstrom --

Category Four they stop believing me.

It's fine, they say, it's a storm, just a storm,

and I try to describe the height of the waves, the way they don't stop

but it's just a storm, they say: just a storm.

I lose my edges as a Category Five. My skin blurs,

the water, the nebulous horizon.

I am a force of nature, staring at my own waves,

about to break over my head.