fall at bonsai oaks
scream "damn!" as the sky shatters
and forks with lightning,
bright afterimage that corrals
fear and the thunder that arrives
a split second later. the rain
sweeps in, spraying us where we sit
on the porch of our old white house.
"the upstairs bathroom's gonna leak again"
but none of us move to put down buckets
as the sky splits again and the sudden
darkness afterwards speaks of thunderheads
piled miles high. The lights go out
and our grins hide themselves in the dark.
Angela stands on the railing, hands to the sky,
head back and welcoming the flash
that silhouettes and freezes her
against a background washed with white fire
and she burns her way into my memory
as we shout together at the lightning
and the sky, knowing nobody can hear us.
8/3/99