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Thunderstorm

by Joanne Marisa Leow
It starts
almost imperceptibly
a glancing scent
     in the wind
that distinct whiff of water.

     wall after wall
     of impenetrable liquid
a delicate adagio
at first

then ravenous
later
     pushed relentlessly forward by
an unquenchable thirst

unbearably, illimitibly white at my window.



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