He was a torrent,
a deluge,
a downpour,
a wall of water,
a waterfall,
unstoppable,
untamable.
He swept her away,
pulled her under.
He was a force
that left her breathless.
He tossed her aside,
a shipwrecked distress.
She clung to the driftwood
of mourning.
published in Alien Buddha Zine #57, included in Nolcha’s latest book, “My Pelvis Wants to Be Elvis,” and republished in Contemplate
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