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Robert L. Martin

Hurricane

Hurricane
 
Your stinging smiles and your ugly head
The way you coil and strike at will
With your arsenals of mortal venom
Your dance of death and demolition
Your angry legs and your killer skies
Your love affair with the macabre
You ruthless beast with no remorse
 
But yet up above you, you are sublime
You are a white heaven swirling down below
Your eyes are quiet and peaceful pearls
Your arms uplifted with palms upward
Your constant motion is a symphonic ballet
You are a dancer with tears in your eyes
A poem with throbbing sonnets
You weep with melancholy virgins
And mend birds that can’t go to the skies
You are a lady of virtue and kindness
 
Yet you are a slithering snake as you move
A portrait of a saint with shifting eyes
A smile that lurks behind dark corridors
A pit of serpents in a tranquil dream
You move with grace and perilous charm
You love with your swords in your sheath
You draw them out with your kisses
You are a beautiful beast
You strike when all is calm
As your Master Satan wishes
After all isn’t that what hurricanes do?
Isn’t that what you are made of?

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