Before the Storm

Cloud-bruised sky warns of bottled panic
in stagnant summer air that is easier
worn than breathed.
No effort displaces the cotton,
mired sticky-sweet like marshmallow creme
as it entwines all flesh in humid strands
until even the protesting brain confesses itself
webbed to anxious inactivity.

So the body lies shackled:
melted to the vinyl-car-seat bed,
coveting AC or at least a eunuch with a fan;
TV off in sheer frustration
and nothing to hear
but the endless seconds of the plastic clock
or the distant moaning of a sky prepared to fall...

And a mind wails in empathy
with the thickening wind,
pleading
Take me with you in the updraft
Let me spark madly through the dervish clouds
Make me electric
Help me stroke the stars and split the sky
Use me up in the flash of a moment
For I cannot face eternity

waiting for release

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I often make fairly detailed notes about a poem after I've written it because I find it frustrating to read the poems later and not quite remember what brought them on. The note for this one reads only "Sometimes I just feel like my brain is going to explode..."

Ellipsis included, yes. I guess I wasn't having a great day.

I think everyone's had at least one moment of wanting to go out in a flash, though.

Oh, and I know it's weird to be posting a poem about a summer storm when it's so close to Christmas. I was flipping through my book and it just caught my eye. That's all.