Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Michael Cluff- A Poem

Gusts 3

Camille texts me
her paper
was blown over
the car
into the still soppy drainage ditch
lost to the acts
of a capricious nature.

Having had my loose
new silk birthday necktie
ripped from my unbuttoned-down collar
make me mellow
towards her
not myself
for planning
to wait until
I reached my office
to create the perfect

The wind does not care
one way or another
it just howls
joy accenting
the final notes
of passing.

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