The Morning After…

The morning after

the storm

we survey the wreckage

of oleander branches

scattered across the yard –

we discover the night terrors

that brought a small boy

awake: his awning in pieces –

we find neighborhood strays

longing for sweaters or homes

shaking in their packs –

we find evidence

of that miserable howling

that had us hiding

under the covers, entwined tightly


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