How silly to compare her
to hurricanes
to thunderstorms
to temporary
cliche swirls of emotion.
She is concrete. She is permanent.

She is brave with her words
and slick with her heart.
There is concentration dripping from her pores
and love sticking to her bones.

She is a lifetime of goodmornings.
She is the warmth of lilac sheets.
She is firmly planted.
She sticks in your mouth
and slams against your jaw.

She is everything
imaginable,

and you’re telling me
the best you can come up with
is a fucking 30 minute storm?

—  Michelle K., She is Not a Hurricane.