Heat Lightning


We only try to understand/what we can’t explain away./I was on the porch last night,/flashes ring through the skies/heat lightning makes it a sunny afternoon. She says-Heat lightning, not the real thing. /But take a look at how fast it travels!/I pick up sticks, walk down the road./Her dogs there, they don’t bark, I don’t whistle/./Wet fur, greasy,/startled by the waves of light/;she sits next to them in a crescent./

At seventeen, I saw most storms fade,/in big cities, they hold on /to lunar cycles/then bonfires burn in vacant lots./In the here and now,/it’s a thing we ask,/ of what we think is tender./Then tenderness screams it’s name,/it didn’t build the bonfire,/it didn’t clamor/to channel what’s between us./Heat lightning knows not to deny/what it will later claim./Not like forked lightning,/freezing before it sways.

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