Flooding comes quick,
dramatic with lightning's thrusts,
harsh with a cruel brilliance
that leaves blackened tracks of pain,

digs ragged holes
in sweet spring mists and memories,
lines them with cruel stakes,
and loss that has me falling forever over nothing.
Thrown to passion's quick hand,
my lover's brown skin stretches to breaking,
and the claws that make me bite
fill my heart with horror, drive me to flight;

up under thunderheads
riddled with static and ice shards that sting
until wings whittled from the fabric of despair
lift me clear, and I am weightless, freed.