john grey

Big Storm
(luckily no one lost power)

It’s ten at night
and a mythic god
with a damaged outlook
moves in on the exposed sky—

its roots in darkness,
one boom from
the bowels of its legend,
and a town crumbles
to its shaky knees—

in kitchen after kitchen,
suffering hands
are forced into prayer—
down at the tavern,
drunken men turn pockets inside out
in search of a crucifix
or enough corns for another drink—

yellow lightning
rocks a cradle—
cavernous thunder
stains a young boy’s jeans—

did I say ‘storm’,
no, what I meant was
the old man stomping into the house
like an elephant,
red-faced and cursing
and swinging his fists—

up and down the street,
some pay with a bruise on the face,
a blackening of the eye,
a few just hide
until it blows over

or drops onto the couch,
snores and mutters its way
into common amnesia.

John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in The Lyric, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, “The Kennedy Curse” with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Natural Bridge, Southern California Review and the Oyez Review.

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