pebbledash night
sky coil on coil
of poised adders

Night storm flows an electric current towards her house. He waits. She waits. Between impermanent shrill sounds they hear tentacle notes. She turns. He turns. They can wait no longer. Her eyes squeeze a bleached sight. She shouts. He covers his ears. Sheets of handmade paper swirl around a dusty floor. Land at her feet. Dirty butterflies rumple into a descent. Still she shouts. Not quite a scream. He covers his ears, squeezes  eyes into vibrant insight. A raw storm slits his throat, stifling inside cries for help. Holds his neck with taut hands, squeezing somewhere low inside. Surges of metal forge deeper. Sounds on hold, she shouts at his forced breathing, now also on hold. Lengths of coiling wind move into a strangled desolation. Globe eyes touch sheets of handmade paper that have begun to levitate. Constellations of rusty nails fall through her tin roof. They rattle in harmony with a cloud of twisted leaves visible through twists of uprooted trees. His extinguishing body, smothered in damp detritus, trips over a trick blend of distorted shapes. He expires. Bleached sheets of handmade paper expire. Her shouts expire. Shouts of a night storm expire. Rough edges of wind rustle. Slight moonlight sways. She bags up his body.

dies  within a storm
knew it would happen
one day within