There's a thunderstorm,

lightning above me, rumbling --


deep beneath my feet.

For hours they're chasing

each other across the plains:


thundery showers.

For half an hour already
Mimi is purring in my lap

on the toilet
where I am stroking her
because of the lightning

No fear for her
I am a good person
I know that myself

my side is the right side
of the line under the door
the blue light

of the bolts
and the rumbling thunder
the sword of Michael

that separates evil
from good in a time
we all know

as our own time

Thrums the bee waggle-dance in a haunt of Indian horsepaths,
Or the shaking leaf one second past the strike of galloping rain
/ Parsimonious lightning, thrifty in its jagged stalks
Against this night of heavy-hearted oaks /
Then the hay-fringed bale of sleep, rolled into a valley of slowed breathing,
Through parting cloud-diabolique, poison-peers the wet toadback of Autumn,
Glowing moon-gristle in the bosky wolf’s beard with its wireframe of teeth.

The words danced from my mouth
Desperate to bring on the rain.
They fell to the ground and shattered.
Fragile though they were,
they fueled thunder and created storms.

Your heartbeat is caught in a thunderstorm,
You run with a broken umbrella away from winds
That chase you with the hopes to carry you home,
And every time lightening strikes, you realize,
the darkness is only a disguise


The light is closer than it seems