The wind is still screaming
against the windowpanes-
radio-statics pitched a little too high
and wavering like wildflower-dandelions in yesterday’s storm,
and I wonder whose screams
got carried away by the wind before
they could echo into their own hands
(and maybe they’re all lost forever-
too entangled in wind-shrieks to be
pulled back; maybe the music will be left unheard)

I heard that birds have hollow bones-
a necessary equipment for flight-life, you see,
& so maybe they hollowed out their hearts and the
secrets left in-between
scattered bones,
and I wonder if the wind was just
a quirky-collector of life-
maybe she picked up the trash and
flew into her own flight,
Filling her hollow body with
secrets of another,
maybe she was in search of a new ‘her’