Things We Said in the Storm

The sky’s a hurry-cane scrim,
but we’re still scribbling light
-ning above the din. 

We promised ourselves we 
wouldn’t hide, even as the 
cloud cauldron stirred. 

And when we thought we might run 
out of time
, 
we plucked our own feathers 
to write these lines. 

::

In November, we poem.

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