Puke Poetry

Heart like a hand grenade, fully-automatic weapon for a mind.

Monday, June 09, 2008

Severe Weather Watch

my three cats
they stand confused
by the wind whipping
the trees around
like they were rubber
they're staring intently
through my raised
first floor screens
posted in a line
on the back of
my and their
favorite armchair
watching, tense and alert
like they're waiting
like they've caught the scent
of something, and it's telling them
that something is coming.

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