June through November

A wolfman howling.

A drunkard reeling.

It's your cone of uncertainty

that stirs our anxiety as,

in your polyphemic rage,

you weave your way north

skirting I-95.

With your spindrift breath

you scatter the locals

who lie in your path,

flattening their dwellings,

drowning their villages,

they flee for their lives.

Only Poseidon knows

which way you'll veer.

R.A. Allen

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

R. A. Allen's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the New York Quarterly, Poetry Online, B O D Y, The Penn Review, RHINO, The Los Angeles Review, Pennine Platform, January House, etc. He has been nominated for a BotN and two Pushcarts. Find his fiction in The Literary Review, The Barcelona Review, PANK, The Los Angeles Review, and Best American Mystery Stories 2010. He lives with his wife in Memphis, Tennessee, a city of light and sound.   https://bodyliterature.com/2020/02/17/r-a-allen/