what the thunder said?
when i leaned up under its beard
and listened just to feel the boom
in my open ears
the thaw of words into quick colors of:
sad, red, please, and blue
and i tickled its misty chin in frank thankfulness of you.
i felt the thunder talk
but did not hear a sound,
but i bloomed with every step i took in the fertile ground
toes trapping into violets and ankle tearing past the root
i fell and stopped and panted
while i was beckoned under foot.
and when i breathed and could not breathe
i laughed before the Dead.
the dirt was good; i understood
what the thunder said.
Author notes
allusions to eliot. i rarely do rhyming poems.
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