Hurricane Song

Lady, won’t you wait

out the hurricane

all night at my place—

we’ll take cover like

the lamps & I’ll

let you oil

my scalp. Please, I needs

a good woman’s hands

caught in my hair, turning

my knots to butter.

All night we’ll churn.

Dawn

will lean in too soon—

you’ll leave out into

the wet world, winded

& alone, knowing

the me only

midnight sees.