Come

A lightning
travels
from point to
point

illuminating a hand
reaching
for a silver
handle

straining, an ailing back
arches
to compensate for
loose waves of electricity
now moving about
freely

but there is a slight
moaning
a constant droning
a lo-fi hum
a kind of slow hand
on a warm
drum

and there is a body
calling
from a cradle
curdling
and fifty billion reasons
why i can’t love you
even as you come away reeling.