METEOROLOGIC DESIRE
Lightning, stretch your jagged fingers
to the earth. Something is calling you,
some slice of metal, some tree.
Spread your intricate lace tongue of char
across the ground fanned out from the kissing point
and the rain (if any) will soothe it.
Come, ion strike and tense air
snapping, rending. Split stone
or wood or bore straight into earth,
a conduit for angelic rage.
Issa M. Lewis 