Call me hurricane

The air was
wet and slippery,
moss tastes
and blood.
I wanted to
burn with you,
retrace out footprints
to the bastard church steps in Helsinki
where the content
old men sat
by the frontal lobe door
etched in color,
smoking their pipes
and laughing
while telling far away stories,
jazz leaked out of
the pours in the wood that
sighed beside them.

Lift me up
and drown me in that
twilight song
you used to sing
as you watched
the trees glow red and become
shadows and
fly away into
the night.

the cave coven ones
must emerge
through the earth,
our howls
rapturing the sky
with fire,
fingertips light
down the spine.
I was the harlot
that bait you and
ate you,
twisted bones
with blood together
and summoned forth
the riptide.
Call me hurricane.

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