For dVerse



STORM

Incandescent, sky splits –
bruise becomes wound,
wound becomes light

sharp as glass.  Wind bays,
blunders amongst the panic-
stricken trees. Clouds discharge

into fat green rain. Light
thickens, distorts and splits,
sets fire to water.

Window lens dilates.
We curl into ourselves,
seek shelter here in

the ridiculous harbour
of our folded wings.
Behind the flapping dark

the world convulses,
crying aloud the ceaseless
vowels of the wind.