SM Stubbs

Dealing With the Storm

In the days before it starts, you must fill sacks 
with sand from vacant lots then stack them 

in front of every door. A voice on the radio says 
to gather your canned food and jugs of water 

before the evacuation. Store shelves already bare—
no candles, no batteries, no sugar for the coffee 

bagged by the pound. Whatever you do, keep driving. 
Interstates may be choked with panic, barrier islands 

near the coast swept clean. Do not dismiss this 
as routine. Drive past wherever you think you’re safe. 

If you’re lucky the eye will shift and miss your county, 
your lawn, your photo albums wrapped in plastic. 

If you’re lucky your past won’t be Category 5’ed. 
Looters may help themselves; troops may be sent 

to manage the chaos. Be prepared to make do 
with whatever you’re able to lay your hands on. 

It will take years before you grow accustomed 
to the bitter taste flooding the back of your throat.

SM Stubbs co-owned a bar in Brooklyn until recently. Recipient of a scholarship to Bread Loaf, nominated for the Pushcart and Best New Poets. Winner of the 2019 Rose Warner Poetry Prize from The Freshwater Review. His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Poetry Northwest, Puerto del Sol, Carolina Quarterly, New Ohio Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Crab Creek Review, December, and The Rumpus.