Inside The Hearts' Walls

Surprise Surprise


Rumble and tremor and then,
The concrete city falls.
A population over a million... decimated,
Ten percent die under broken, crushing walls.

Isn't ground supposed to be solid?
Shouldn't home be a safe place to go?
Can you trust the ground again, or buildings,
When they've killed people you know?

We don't like to be surprised like this,
And so internalize the fear and pain and worse,
Awaiting the next one, expectation lays within,
A hard and heavy curse.

Was that shaking just now real,
Or was it only in my mind?
You keep a glass of water by your bed,
To know if you need to rush outside.

Many have trouble sleeping,
Some refuse to go inside.
But when Earth itself tries to kill us,
Where can we possibly hide?

Our prompt for January 11's meeting is: "What happens next is a complete surprise"

Apparently it's from a famous poem that we're not allowed to know about yet. So write your poem before you google the prompt, lest your inspiration be tainted.

Edit: Okay, here's the poem:

--------------------

Lola Haskins - Dearborn North Apartments

Chicago, Illinois

Rows of rectangles rise, set into brick.
And in every rectangle, there is a lamp.
Why should there be a lamp in every window?
Because in all this wide city, there is not
enough light. Because the young in the world
are crazy for light and the old are afraid
it will leave them. Because whoever you are,
if you come home late but it looks like noon,
you won't tense at the click as you walk in
which is probably after all only the heat
coming on, or the floorboards settling.
So when you fling your coat to its peg in
the hall, and kick off your heels, and unzip
your black velvet at that odd vee'd angle as if
someone were twisting your arm from behind,
then reach inside the closet for a hanger,
just to the dark left where the dresses live,
what happens next is a complete surprise.