slam poetry

i am the wind that wavers
what spiteful chance steals unawares
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
she might have known it in the earlier spring
when the hours of day are numbered
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
she limps with halting painful pace
have you heard
when i was a boy at college
brief on a flying night
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
see the tentative