Wind Riot
by Diane Webster

Wave after wave of wind
cascades against the house
like a prisoner rattling cell bars
and screaming, “Let me out!!”
or worse, “Let me in!”
as I huddle in bed
like a guard in his watch tower
safe but alone with his rifle
and bullets mentally counted
if a riot breaks out
and he hits every target surging toward him
like fall leaves in a wind storm
until finally he is submerged
and smothered before the following wave
rushes over him blindly
because he no longer exists
and I count ticking minutes
until sleep washes me up
against sandy sunrise shore.

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