clouds are gathering. The trick knee
hackles itch. She's breezed in drunk
fears of other men.
slam. A thunderclap of dishes shakes
wall. And when the storm outside surmounts
rain of insults and their muffled threats,
downpour eaves drops on their epithets,
wind delivers blow by blow accounts—
it all blows over and sachets
honeysuckle scent the morning air.
chirp like birds, and all is peaceful there.
me? I'm rattled. I scan the sky for
The Silent Partner, Story Line Press,
1994. Reprinted by permission of the author
and Story Line
Press, Ashland, Oregon.