You Should Be Lightning
In clear skies, if you can find
them. Once I touch you,
I can never let go. You should
be thunder warning the less
picky away. Once I start counting,
I will never stop. So much
of love is about denying
who we are and wishing we
could flower into bloom.
You said we’re too polite
with each other, which means
everything is still new. Lightning
could snake right through
that wall, forever reaching up
or is it down? I will be lightning
for you if you’ll only stand out
in the open; climb a hill
and I’ll be there, falling
toward the sky, hands outstretched.
Raised on a rice and catfish farm in eastern Arkansas, CL Bledsoe is the author of forty books, including his newest poetry collection, Banana for Scale, and his latest novel The Moon on My Back. Bledsoe co-writes the humor blog How to Even, with Michael Gushue: https://medium.com/@howtoeven Bledsoe lives in northern Virginia with his son.
