The furies flare, crowing and crying
again. Perhaps, enough
has been said about agreement.
Temperatures are rising,
but we are cool as autumn, watching
a storm heave itself against the rocks.
Eyes flashing in the darkness,
they circle and stalk,
curling like sighs amongst the cedars.
But they cannot harm us, barricaded
as we are by contentment —
vaccinated by an absence of desire.
© 2020 by Hannah Six
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