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  Mar 2017 Eriko
Elizabeth Squires
blustering south winds
have blown constantly all eve
they're packing some speed
  Mar 2017 Eriko
Eric W
The pressure drops,
and the leaves begin to
swirl around a dusty lake.
Fire in the sky
rolls in with the clouds
riding a difference between a
splitting of hot and cold.
The hot air ***** the rain
further,
while the cold air cushions
and pushes
further.

In another distance
a similar storm brushes in
with a deep wind that
has carried it across an ocean,
to pull in more water
to travel
further,
pushed by the cold of what
is behind
and pulled by the heat
of what is ahead.

These two of a system
meet over this lake
and crash together,
like two gas giants.
The Earth shakes,
the lake creates waves,
and a look above shows
the funnels coming down.

One of pure chaotic wind,
and another of raw destructive water.
Trapped by each others
opposition
and support,
they dance across the lake,
lifting the leaves
and spinning
the weight of their composition
into one another,
until finally
they merge into a
brief or non-brief
union,
pull into the sky
as it splits apart,
breaks the storm
and leaves
clear skies.
Eriko Mar 2017
those lies flew
tumbling, whisking out through
the window as the ashen faces
stood starstruck with the impression
of another moved syllable,
coping with the thought
that it disappeared years ago,
that their beloveds were peeled
like ripe oranges under a summer sun
so all that is left to see
are the pieces
of another
argument
Eriko Mar 2017
carry memories,
like the dirt underneath
fingernails

unpainted and hidden not,
carry scars like that
of roses  

and sing unforgivingly,
sing like mountains
pointed

at no one
Eriko Mar 2017
maybe, perhaps with the heaviest glare
I am missing of an essential care
I've never sought to recover,
a dingy room lit with fireflies
and the most beautiful sunsets
without the sight to drink
within its margins,
falling through the grains of chopped wood,
of gnarled tree bark and wild white daises
feel the impressions of a breath,
the impressions of movement
floating momentarily in a golden shaft
of spring sunlight,
then only to be snatched
with green and blues
of a waning afternoon sky,
the impressions of laughter
and the impressions of noise,
the impressions of a tender touch
tingling after the love
sought without a glimpse
of knowing what's truly
there to hold a single, ever-changing
impression
Eriko Mar 2017
wrap my bones in soothing silk
and see what unfolds
at the height of
a beating drum and beading sunlight,
of crisp April air and sparkling starlight
and emboss my world with
the richest of senses
Eriko Mar 2017
centered, I like to be here
rather than that
of your land sliding grin
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