the man rolled
over when
his sleep heard
thunder
and
between
the open screen/
waking
up
his fingers
wandered, touching
the black thunderhead
of a woman's curls
begging to be seen
!forty tornadoes on the horizon
yet his eyes/heart
like the sky
refused to open
and as though
the storm could
at any moment
become (again) a dream...
heat rose
like good mornings/i love yous
from
asphalt
crows made nests
like devils fumbling
over
organs
a nameless tulip
like a martyr
begged for
rain
a cloud and
the broad man
moved like low pressure
systems
into position
weather between
sleep/sex
wind/dance
not even the day
after knew
as he reached over
the bed to
find a warm
imprint
in the pillow
a memory/a woman
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