Typhoon

Today is for studying the Beaufort Scale
For understanding rescue
In the breeches buoy formed by the
Wonderful curve between the shoulder blades
Of three women at the bookstore

Or to tell a friend that the story began
When Macwhirr tapped the barometer

The foamy swells of time are whipping white
Froth by me and warning flags snapping
In high strung wires as irresistible green seas
Wash across the decks on Cleveland avenue

When she smiled at me I heard

Hatchbolts, even keelbolts
Beginning to give way