Hurricane

Green pine trees breath a shush that,
sways and cuts at the acid tongue wind
for it whistles and whines so,
a burn on the ears of far away listeners
taking refuge in the tin can borders
that rittle rattle a fine loud din
battling with that wind to be heard
spilling clong a clang clashes into empty streets
vacated in hast for fast on their heels howls fury
thriving mouth juice of an abyss above
pelted down to raise again from storm warmed tarmac

Pull the curtains from the windows
tug them loose, set them free
liberate them to dance in the whirl lust
thrust and blustered to beyond smithereens
toss in gear stick and rubber wheel
lamp post stand with the unworking light
mix them, bash them, stir them lash them
strike them different destination
feed the sea their cartilage
feed the earth their bones
till you've gusted out your own demise.