about an hour after
our local bookstore closed
the sky darkened
to green the wind came sideways
from nowhere thunder
racked my house and slam-banged
around an old man grumbling
on a brittle winter day so like
human beings their cultures gathered
around clouds of voices raising heat
and ugliness the sounds distress me
my body reflecting not just words but
the humid heavy breath of the street
blowsy a little hot they keep saying
our bright star is exploding our world
set ablaze eyes like deep pools
of wisdom and fascist fists are
pummeling my heart if I can fight this
I might stop falling into the jade sky
and wake up warm and safe and dry
but on the other hand we could be
staring down the inscrutable
barrel of a millennial storm
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Photo: terren
