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Havoc

Michele Boule
Acton, MA



Havoc


Sheets flap fiercely in the crazy, afternoon wind
like wild, flying nuns,
waving semaphores

all thoughts for tomorrow get blown deeper into
the endless pockets of our sky...

Today, we ride high on gentle clouds
hovering safely above the breath
of the raging wind...
we sing fragile songs and
our voices break softly
like small, porcelain dolls...

Tonight will be dark:
rumbling loudly with spit in our throats,
we'll swoop down fast,
plummet through the bottom
of the fractured moon,
and lick
     the hairy belly
          of their earth.

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