In Case of Emergency, Break Glass

…

This poem is a perfect storm.

The abnormal crawlings and clawings
of a wayward gypsy heart. Clouds are
forming, global word-warming, drops
waiting to spill. Beware saltwater and
too much silence, the violence of
scattered whim and will, wonder and
worry filling tree skins with equal
measure.

So far, it’s stayed off the Richter scale,
flown below the radar, known how to
be
without causing mass panic
in the streets. But it’s building.

Willing itself into
thunder and rage and hurricane
pages tornadoed loose. It’s both
lifeline and noose, sink and swim,
refuge
and eye
of the tempest.

It’s a huge deluge of both dream
and doubt.

It’s got plenty of warning

(sighs)
……………..signs,

but we can’t get out.

 

 

…

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