Eye of the Storm

by Marc Mangel

Sitting in the eye of the storm

with lightning flashing and thunder crashing

sheets of water

hail

slicing

chopping into little bits a

false tanquility

wind and lonely dogs

howling

pretty matrons in doorways with

faces scowling

with water bubbles down a street

tripping each tree it

just so meets

life and times

so soaked that it’s sure

we’re in the eye of the

storm

(sometime in 1971)