the offshore lightning is kin

A painting frenetic moving,

soundless from our distance on shore,

striking the water dark in complex rhythm

monochrome visualizer of a high paced song.

.

The storm’s winds press across sand,

press into bare skin, press through bone;

to grasses and shrubs, tangling limbs

— the only storm we’ll feel tonight.

.

As clouds’ bellies alight from lightning’s

punishment of waters sound and deep;

as the sky connects with sea to littoral to dune —

to me, to you —

all threads together, through and through.

.

Through the in-between, spiritual, molecular,

— all bonds together created from the same:

of shell, plasma, stars, and blood;

of spines, roots, veins, claws.

.

Whichever god we call to,

whichever theory allow us fitful sleep:

entangled within and without,

the unknown binder and emulsion.

.

The lightning rolls away slow, deeper

into the ink black of the sleeping Atlantic;

creeping outward til it tires out

just as we tire out from yesterday’s sun,

just as we walk towards city’s orange sky

— away from retreating noiseless thunderstorm

.

to sleep off whiskey

to sleep off heavy legs

to sleep off the burden

of heavy revelation

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