strange to think
the old barn wood
mere planks the shell
between an inner sanctum
and an outer hell
but hidden behind the hay
we laid and shivered
fear the cold blanket
holding us in icy arms
for war it was
that flourished out there
beyond those planks
an unknown battle
plaguing an unknown land
as if tornadoes themselves
were playing chess
on a Sunday afternoon
the enemy could be glimpsed
through the spacing
of those mere planks
and it was through those spaces
a hand tore into
to grab my shoulder
to drag me near
to hold me against that shell
in a terrified ecstasy
in that place of hell
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