HURRICANE

 

A broken crane hanging down amongst skyscrapers,

threatening to fall apart,

a very physical Damocles’ sword

beyond metaphor.

I imagine the persisting shrieking of the weather,

a wrathful unframed mouth

disgorging shrapnel after shrapnel of the world,

the gutters exploding in the dark,

the living daylights wiped out in volleys of angry stars,

rubble blazing into sight, roof-beams dangling

juxtaposed like asterisks, shattered flasks

engorging, later, the silence.

 

A staircase left where a house was,

towering alone, you could walk up on it

climbing into a nowhere.

Questioning the wind

like a dishevelled druid

or a poet stung by

the incomprehensible shards of his lines.