throughout the autumn gale
the bottle on the sill
reverberates
flashing storms into the room

minute blue sparks of our crackling encounter
let fly ice blades to pierce
deeply
maim not ****

harsh words flying as wet leaves
torn away
slap against the window

the storm  passing
we asked why

yes, I know I said but you
said what I meant was
you've got it all wrong but I
know you so well what
gives you the right to
assume you know how I
feel all right SORRY as if you
meant it and anyway what was all that about

reflections darkly subsiding
taste remains
raw
resonance of anger in
a dark pulse inside
the blue glass bottle