Saturday, December 28, 2013

STFU

The first
silence fell hard,
unexpected spring frost
burning all the new to black mush.
Surprise.

Second, 
birthed from melt miles
upstream, followed flash flood
water wall bulldozer. Dead flat
quiet.

Blackout
number three hid
beneath the tornado
rubble wall, not even birds sang
out loud.

Fourth time,
mist crept in, grey
tentacles slithering
velvet around the furniture,
gloom thick.

The fifth
silence rose up,
storm surge forecast weeks out.
Evacuate or drown. I float,
driftwood.

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