Squall

a poem by John Hegley

Squall 9, Jan/Feb 1995, pg. 23.

It's an ill wind
that chokes on its own bluster.

It's not a small Squall atall.
Like a determined duster
in the house that time forgot,
it makes a lot of fluster.
It's so intense
it nudges someone off the fence
who was sitting on the wall.
It's a Squall so big
it blows a judge out of his wig
and a pig
from its poke.