A lovely day for a category 6 hurricane. stained gray of wet clay blue sky dies above the tides waves exalt joyous malice with too small hands and a trusty, funny mug/ /world’s okayest brother/ /i scooped at the trickle that leaked/ /into my home, into my bedroom, my family albums/ /and my empty chest of future treasures/ /a trickle into a stream/ /into a deluge, of the blood red swell of tides crashing against my door/ /that fell from superheated storms/ /and clouds of silver lying. more violence in the storms of late/ /as our beloved Earth is further baked/ /in smothering greed and belief that, conveniently/ /whatever is wanted is truth. now/ /i mop up the dregs of it, soak up that brine of fury/ /and despair. yet already, the stains and warped wood/ /and scent of sickening mold set in/ /i squeeze out the water from my shirts/ /and books and sheets, into buckets of my disappointment/ /in the gleefully manic rain dancers/ /i want to set these heavy tear-laden buckets/ /on their chest to halt their steps/ /but the weight of my disappointment in them/ /is a feather breath of helium on leaden will/ /and blindly hopeful hearts. with any mercy/ /the worse next storm/ /overwhelming my roof/ /will breach those blissful homes at higher ground/ /and they will be too busy/ /buying christened mops and cursing the Weathermen/ /to dance for rain again the ocean swells relentless the waves that swallow my world thin film on a splendid grain -J.A.Miller

A lovely day for a category 6 hurricane.

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