Sculpted Lightning

or, The Beautiful Sameness of Normalcy

Original photograph by Fir0002/Flagstaffotos via Wikipedia, “Lightning”

Not like vinegar touches the tongue
or the futile efforts to mow down cement
make the sidewalk bloom with daffodils and daisies
let the summer unfold in whispers and sideways glances
let the heat undulate above the asphalt
paths that lead us to park benches draped in shade
and supernovas launched from baseball fields

stories soft and laud shall unfurl

from the pages of long forgotten books waiting to be read
the trains will still turn as always on their silver tracks
bowls of macaroni and coleslaw platters
presented at neighborhood cookouts, pool parties
to which everyone is invited, everyone welcomed

until evening when clouds coil around the setting sun

wind lassoed to sun dappled limbs as it batters your hair
and sheets of rain clatter to the ground steaming
like the blankets that fall around our sex
when we leap from the bed at four in the morning
to flashes and thunder and the bated silence
of electricity drawn thin and absent from the filament
that forms the veins and arteries of this house
our home, our sparklit bodies pressed and cleaving
to each other as we stand beside the open curtains
cast shadows of the storm wrapped around us
our love like sculpted lightning
violet indigo and blue filling neon crevices with no remorse
raindrops drumming in tune with our heartbeats
spooning as we wait there, motionless and watching
admiring another day, another decision, another nightfall
beneath the flowing fingers of God interlaced through the sky

like our interwoven hands forming one body

as we return to bed and settle in blissful belonging
to fuck to sleep to dream to rise to breathe
to greet tomorrow as today.

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