Lightning Over Ventura

The night begged its own seat in the calendar of seasons. A warmth but a triumph over fire and a confusion over coast.

A frenzy, like lightning it was, like an invitational mystery with a jocular humor. For girls, such skies. Much like the girls I used to be.

The scenes I used to take to and the love drug storms I used to make fall short of this graceful math. This lightning with no wind, this rain with no reason. I am not for such delights. I am not for seeing what is already there.

He times a surprise and I shorten a tantrum. Evolve, is it? And without revolt?

A handicapped breath gives way to a kidnapped cloud; we are not alone, one hopes. I am ever alone, I spoke. My eyes only for ghosts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Required

You have an odd way of requiring “sir”.

Respect ground out of hurt, your status unearned.

A tremble of doubt, a flame to snuff out

a light like a feather, she’s hushed—all the better.

She’ll beg and she’ll bruise

The chamber you use

to hide all your faults

Your money: her vault.

 

JYip-Virginia-034
Photo by Jonas Yip at Jock Sturgess workshop, 2012