Earthquake

She lives on a fault,
And exists only through a terrible balancing act of nature,
And thrives only through a precarious existence.

Unable to adapt,
Unfamiliar with continuity,
Unconcerned with boundaries,
And unafraid of displacement,
She has succeeded in cracking the very structure of her world
Into a clean, dangerous line,
An ethereal fracture.

But why?
Does she enjoy the commotion and insurrection only an earthquake can produce?
Are the screams like music to her ears and the hollow prayers like wicked pleasures to her heart?
Does she close her eyes and revel in the aftermath? In the cries and the chaos of a world shaken to its core?

Or does she simply abhor satisfaction?


She looks to San Andreas with the familiarity of an old friend and longs - impatiently and with a fervor that frightens even herself - for The Next Big One.

The ground begins to shake beneath her feet. She smiles.
A whisper,
"Are you satisfied yet?"