“Last night there was a thunderstorm and my body was a roiling landscape of static. I couldn’t lay still, or feign sleep, so I left our bed and the tangle of suffocating sheets and wandered through the streets, past drowsy homes full of slumbering bodies.
Our house seemed different, brought to life in flashes of white-blue staccato, illuminating everything we’ve built and collected in a strange new numinous hue. I saw others, formless and curious, finding their way back between the cracks and claps and booms.
They’ve returned to watch over us, to shelter their loved ones as common sense drowns and ancient, soluble wisdom is diluted in the deluge.
I forget who I am as I let them trickle over and through me.
Inside I am nothing but their thunderstorm.”
3:00am Storm 23 – 24 /7/2019