Friday, July 29, 2005


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.


  1. I really like this, but I've very curious to know who the players are. You know me, nosey.

    I really like being bathed in cool darkness.

  2. not really any one in particular. They're fiction mostly. He's gone, and she's adjusting to it.

  3. some events are unique
    and (re)live only in memory
    as you say
    wise old women know