the storm
the menstrual blow flailing the womb of spring
is the one and only thing that wide-eyes the cat
clawing at the budding clouds racing before the sea
arrives in a tsunami of fear that flattens her ears
and raises the hackles of hell and i am out of here
right now and i’m gone and i’m back and i’m gone
whimpering a mew at the ghosts of cats in blast
after blast after blast then it’s past
and she curls up to wait for the sunshine
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