Like A Hurricane
The end comes too swiftly–
a brush of wind beating
in a hurricane.
Your heart beats heavily
through the paisley fabric,
punching rhythms into my jaw.
The swing of your fist–
yellow and bruised– shows
me that I miscalculated.
Wind blows, and I go down,
a mess of wheat and maize
and blue fabric.
I imagine your lungs in a vice,
under the water, pressure and crush,
but you trail off, prose forgotten,
and then there is simply nothing
left.
~Hammeh
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