A child describes what it feels like when each parent gets angry, and the anger is so big that it can only be told through landscapes. Dad's rage is a barn that shudders, then collapses like a broken leg, leaving an empty prairie that feels "big and dead for a long time." The silence afterward seems to be the worst part. Mom's anger is louder: a castle from a shared dream blows up like a planet, and everything held in tight, hidden places shoots out as bats, wounds and "red shrieking."
The ending shifts. Once the castle is gone, a meadow appears, with flowers that are "Saturday morning" and a brother, Stevie, whistling. Everything is "scrubbed," clean and calm. The speaker seems to feel fear and helplessness during the storms, but also relief and a wary hope afterward. The mood moves from dread and wreckage to a fragile, almost too-tidy peace, which makes us wonder how long it will last.