Thunderbolts

-->

Thunderbolts

An impending storm,

uneasy grey  to purple blackness.

“God sends the thunderbolts                                                                           

as punishment for your sins.”

Your words reverberate even now.

I imagined my feet fried to

melted linoleum,

My hair a crown of flames.

I felt the terror and titillation that

I, a girl-child could evoke such wrath.

Now, God rests in an easy chair

as storms, like waves of Puccini arias

sing the summer sky.

At this, my final turn,

I welcome the small quiet god

that resides within me.

Lu Pierro, 2013.