Modern Magi

I’m ready for the thunder,
now.
I learned that there can be beauty
in the quaking of the earth;
just because the sky trembles
doesn’t mean it will fall down.

And if it did,
our bones would be crushed
into fairy dust
and whoever survived would build from a world
coated in magic.

Maybe there’d be peace then.
Maybe some things would make more sense like:

driving home I saw a car
missing one headlight,
completely smashed out of socket
on the drivers side,
save for a bulb.
This bulb that was on
and shining with all its might.
Wherever they were going,
they still had light.

When the sky cracks in half,
I realize now stitching can also
come in streaks that terrify.

I am no longer a child,
hiding under covers
when the rain comes down.
I’m the windshield wiper
on a car sans one headlight,
swishing water out of line of sight.
Helping driver get to destination,
marveling at the shaking
waiting for the comet tail of lightning,
and trailing the wings of the faeries,
shaking off dust as they fly by.

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Watercolor

I am watching sun
slink behind clouds
that are full of thunder.
I am watching baby blue bleed
into black,
and bruises bloom
over instead of under.

And I want to tell you that
I remember.
That you were my sun and
there was a time when I wanted
our bodies to crash to roll
like thunder,
to shiver with electricity,
brains clouded and eyes shining
with lightning.

And I am watching storm
prepare to rain down
on man-made fortress.

And I am waiting
regardless of undress
to lay in your rain.

Simile.

I loved you like war;
Sacrifice was unquestioned.
I’d lie down
repeatedly in the trenches,
in wait of a bullet that was meant for you.
I’d jump in its path,
take its hit and
fall down,
hoping my blood would speak your name
one last time.

He loved me like healing;
Bandaging each wound you left
gaping open.
Pulling out shrapnel
from the skin that
lay over my throat,
my lungs,
my heart.;
each piece embedded with your initials.

You crashed like thunder;
angry and frightening,
weathering a storm you chose to face without me.
Her fingertips caressed you like drops of rain,
and the sight of me was like lightning,
illuminating all your mistakes.

He broke me like china;
decorated my surface was promises
and fine words.
Got angry at beauty that
disguised vulnerability;
each vase, each plate a reminder of
tragedy met with empathy.
I lay in pieces on his floor,
fractured and chipped.

He never had the courtesy to
sweep me up.