wind

there's a strange wind rolling
inside of me
on and on
as if its wind indeed
in the Alps
                   while the clouds
wrap themselves around my waist

the wind whistles low
and dark through my bare veins
as if calling
the dog
so,
I follow
   hollow
   so the wind
               can whistle
and my veins can twistle
and the whole set of mountains
comes crackling
down
on top
of you     and me.