i explain my joy as the power outage of a home
                      on a holler
                               in a hurricane.

the lights will flicker
from the sun
to the bellows of the ocean
in such a way that nobody
can confirm
nor deny
their presence.

you can t
                a
                  s
                    t
                     e  them
from the sidewalks
and the alleys,
but when they are gone
all you can taste
is the cotton
and cicuta.