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Apr 2023
the rat-a-tat-tat
branch against the glass
outside the window
the wind blows
the clawing and scraping
the knocking
his mouth gaping
clocking the lighted numbers
beside his bed
the pulsing and thunder
inside his head
sweat running along his brow
belly churning like a mama cow
heart pounding like a hammer
the sounding and clamor of her calls
night precipitously falls like a guillotine
it throws and turns him as a washing machine
outside the rat-a-tat-tat
like nails on the chalkboard
she's the scratch
sandra wyllie
Written by
sandra wyllie  56/F
(56/F)   
95
   guy scutellaro
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