You shouldn’t be here. Not
with all this
Wind.
Tendrils torn
Sweeping loss, flakes of flesh
Bits pealed away
Steal away
up to the sky
This Wind.
Tumbling, stumbling,
skittering down the street.
Pressed to a wall, a fence, a tree
Brief rest before whisking off
rolling, tearing, crumbling
chunks of muscle
The side of your face
The heel of you palm
broken jaw
You shouldn’t be here.
Not with all this
Wind.
All This Wind
Effie Graves 