Black Cloud

He opened the window
And stepped out
Lit a cigarette
And looked around
Breathing deeply
And marking time
Gazing five floors
Down to the ground

Descent of the cloud
Here it comes
Here it comes
Like a home run
Like a blood hound

October 2004 Derek Wilson

~ by Derek Wilson on April 5, 2009.

2 Responses to “Black Cloud”

  1. I really like this poem for the curt reality of it. Especially liked the repetition of ‘here it comes”.

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