Witness from a Cafe Window
by D.A. Gray

‘They simply cannot be held to account.'
The waitress stopped, and stared.

She may have meant the commotion of a crowd
that formed around a set of flashing blue lights
in the middle of Dauphin Street.

Or entranced by the purple cloud
rolling toward the coast
she caught the moment
when the sun cut through its belly
like an oyster knife

or the way the storm, fueled by rage
healed itself –

its purple becoming darker than before.

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