A black maw yawns overhead,a darkness filled with rotten
teeth gumming the blue from the
sky, bit by bit, piece by piece.
It has a hunger, this storm
approaching from the north, the
one with an insatiable
appetite for things, below -
it will not be satisfied
until it picks me up with
fingers of wind - hors d'oeuvres to
be snacked on at its leisure.
(c) 2007, Karla Dorman
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