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By Nik De Dominic
November 15, 2011
When baby came from up top she twistered
her fingers round the wrought iron like cat’s
claw. She yelled down to her brother
Clarence making groceries get me something
from the store big shot a pie what not.
He hollered back took up the block and then
the rain broke. When it broke it filled
the gutters and ran down the pipes
whooshed out to street. Only just two clouds
so quick they formed up above and so quick
they broke way. There they used to be Clio thought
and how’s it two tiny little things
made so much noise and now be gone and
here I am left with this just quiet.
Nik De Dominic is an editor of The Offending Adam. He lives in New Orleans.
Photograph via Flickr by GogDog
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Tagged with: American poetry By Nik De Dominic Nik De Dominic