September 9, 2016

Amateur Meteorology

Storm is coming.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi.

What comes after
this many
flashes of lightning
this many
years apart?

Storm is coming.

I can smell it, it smells like
a kettle about to boil
a kettle about to boil over
a kettle about to scald
carelessly bare thighs,
it smells like
domesticity
danger
tragedy
averted
or chosen.

Storm is coming.

The sky is still
blue but the particles
are charged
and moving against one another,
and the storm

is coming, I say,

and damn
your cloudless sunny days
your placid limp barometers,
the storm is coming, coming

very slowly
and I am braced and

ready for the flood.