Eyes of the storm

Eyes of the storm

The prey surface on the ocean

The petrels never break their wings

riding the storm winds, and they all return

to their nests. No deaths. 

You wait

for me 

in the eye

of the storm, 

between a hot stream  and a cold front. 

I dare diving

into the storm, I want to hurt 

my wings. 

The squids surface, my beak wets.

I challenge the purple gaze of the birds

who avoid the storm. 

I don’t dream of zephyr carrying the life 

of dandelion seeds. Your eyes

hurt, you can break my wings.

I want to write grief on a thunder, 

but you stuck your talons

on my head. I stare at my feathers 

beating, the highways of tears, 

or seawater. The wind screams, 

and I wonder if sometimes

even petrels can give up and 

let the storm take them. 

I wish for your underbelly softness, 

I only get the foreignness, 

and the eyes in the storm 

constantly waiting for me to sink.

Biography: Luca Fois is a poet living in Edinburgh, in the liminal space between languages. He loves poetry, writing, and vibing with chaos. You can find him in a local café thinking about the right word to end a line, lurking on X @cuttinghail and on Bluesky @cuttinghail.bsky.social; he’s also a chaotic ghost on Instagram @happy_narvalo, sharing words and food. His work has appeared on Streetcake Magazine, Tiny Wren Lit, Corvus Review, Black Stone/White Stone, Spark to flame and BRAWL lit. Shortlisted for the inaugural The Brilliant Poetry prize (www.thebrilliantpoetry.com/2024).

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/persons-brown-and-black-eye--Ve5kRvt2bU) 3. 6. 2025.

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