she said she was going to bring a knife, she just didn’t say what kind.

the storm
spreads
its monolith
across the
sky

who
succumbs
in
record time;

forked tongue
lightning
sparks
the conversation,

painting
the pair
and cutting
through
the
thick
tier of

laconic
clouds.

(those
hangers on)

its light
fuses
and cements
the wandering
air,
the forward
rain,
the hidden
sky and
the
upturned

faces,
below.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s