In unsettling slumber I dream of bargain hunters
scavenging my home, as if in ruins before ruined,
scrutinizing the yellow corn-shaped Belleek vase--
a gift from my departed mother-in-law--
and oversized speakers still perform in tandem.
What are you asking for these treasures?
then insist the interlopers leave our beachfront
home, still intact, yet on forecasters’ death row list,
predicted to devastate this time, not merely
deposit salty, gritty sediment, broken bits
as it did years ago. This one could yank
they announce, rubbing their hands together,
moving on to rummage through other rooms.
Teddy Ruxpin and Puppy McPupster clutched