IS THIS THE STORM THAT WAKES ME?
Lightening dances in the clouds,
Trees wink in and out of being,
A flash of green and gone.
Wind kisses windows slammed shut.
Is this the storm that wakes me?
I long to feel the thunder,
But it’s timid, barely loud
Enough to hear. It’s not what
Shakes me. The storm surrounds me,
Yet I feel nothing. Stale air,
Hot with my own sweat, safe on
The inside. I wait hours, but
Am unmoved, wrapped in a shroud
I wove from leftover yawns.