after the storm
The wind swayed telephone poles
and reduced torrents to mist --
oyster-shell powder that floated
across cars and into itself again.
They laughed together
at the fury of windshield wipers
and lightning that couldn't keep up --
leaves panicked in puddles, swelling.
When the lights went out,
she bathed in cool darkness
craved the taste of summer
on his chest, but sea-salt burns.
He's been gone a thousand years
and this tepid tub was run
by wise old women generations ago.