Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Tempest

A new wrinkle in the clouds
wind roars, trees shiver
on the shadowed streets
and torrents like regrets
accost the pavements
and the eddies of the rabid river
rock the untethered boats
while you explain to me,
your voice revolving tirelessly
in grief and pain
as if a hurricane,
you came to go away,
your words more murderous
than the tempest.

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Prompt: extreme weather