Storm
Gray clouds
gather
in the hollow
of my throat.
I chart
their movement
northwest wind,
barometric drop,
the way lightning
splits
behind my ribs.
Rain arrives
without apology.
I open my hands,
count the drops.
When sun
breaks through,
I don't close
the windows.
I've learned
to read
the sky of myself
each front
moving in,
each clearing after.
The waves
keep coming.
I keep
learning
to swim.
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