Listen!
WHERE I STAND WITH HIM
a gift of storms bursts open
I among those who stand out
must be showered in his eye
I living with wasps
washed my stings to soften them
the lightning outlines
an old venom already inside me
who am I to shelter myself
(underneath a stone is not what I mean
the water drenches there
lightning grounds itself
perhaps the sting still stings)