Tornados

The bump
in the lines
run different lengths
sounds don't rhyme
but taste good together.
your tongue caresses
and how the 'Or' feels
louder than it says.

suddenly you see a curve
a hip--------a sway
the motion kicks up the page
her hands knock through
the center of the door.

wearing a barely-there dress
and smiles your bowtie off;



the sky drips its fingers
down the down stalks
words gale with force
and soften the edge of your ear.


No one understands
what’s she whispered;
only zippers open their mouths
after that.

You’re Zeus Nicholson,
She’s Susan Herandon
your Buddha eyes meet
spent and laughing.
Period.


Copyright 2009