Weather Forecast Poem by Tony Kitt

Dead warriors of the wind;
their eye sockets
full of typography...

They pocket hailstones
of denial. They spell Draco's New Law
with their bodies.

Death is the way to avoid
further punishment,
spurts the oversized voice.

Billboards; the weather forecast
for tyrants. The silky breeze
of invasion, the clouds

of zero doubt. The thirty-first tyrant
breathes a black candle in his bunker.
He's busy writing uninhabited poems.


[First published in SurVision Magazine, Ireland]