He leans forward when he says it, eyes
a little wide, for that speech
about hurricanes called after women
because both are wild
and beautiful.
If you know wild and beautiful men,
this is not the time to say so.
The inanimate, the she. It is
inarguable. Storms are she,
and ships, and seas, and cities, the moon
but not the sun. Hey sisters --
Want to trash his car?
What can I say? A little light verse never killed anyone except Alexander Pope.
Trash my car? Don't you dare touch her!
Loved the poem, Erin! It's great!