Green Peas at Stake

Storm

The dawn of the last storm…
Though anchored inside the exactness of insomnia,
you feel fortunate
as you shiver
with your forehead to the windowpane.

The lights are out,
the lightning slashes the sky into uneven wedges,
and the floorboards shake
under your feet, threatened by the raucous thunder
bouncing its articulate rumble
through the arid darkness and tearing into
your eardrums with candor;
your cat meows
shaking in abrupt terror under your unmade bed.

On this godforsaken island
sitting between two anonymous coasts,
you watch an arsenal of floods sweep away
the ground down below, and since you put up
with robust flaws in relative chagrin,
like an aristocrat in silhouette,
you too are a part of this storm.