typhoon, typhoon

typhoon, typhoon
coming, too soon. like a midnight lover
in late october. too harsh, too fast,
he throws rocks at my window, my curtain roars
to his hustle. it's too dark to flutter.

fallen trees block the sidewalk
in willowy talks. is there not
a feather? to eye the eye
(when the cyclone smothers the misty hot air)
of the heartlessly blind.