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117th Weekly Poetry Contest winner: Weathervane

by mike head

According to the weathervane, the sky is blue and the streets are bare, the sea is running for
the other side of the Earth, and the wind… it whelms my senses to the point in which I can see
that the sky is no longer blue, but red, and the streets are still overwhelmingly empty, but the sea
is coming at me like a sloop that has found a lift, pounding through waves of little or no attention
span… the weathervane oscillates… and the sun—sitting happy on a sore horizon—tears into a
new tomorrow, but in a separate place, which suits me well because I have a flair for the night…
when I am sitting in a chair no longer able to see the weathervane, but I know… you are across
from me breathing a hot summer from your fluttering chest… with food for a host in a million
more ways, but, knowing that it may be all for me—myself—already endlessly unfolding…
I swallow air more timely until I’m breathless… and the weathervane is still…
                                                                                -Mike Head

See all the entrants to 117th Weekly Poetry Contest