The humid air drags in my throat
as I scribble on a notepad,
not wanting to forget.
Heat lightning dances
in thundering radiance
along ridges of shadow.
A bloodied moon rises
as a dead husk of bone
instead of a bright pool of energy.
Fireflies charge
their bioluminescent light
in the sprinkle of rain,
mirroring the sky.
The fan drones in the window,
hardly sharing the cold-blowing air
with any of the house’s inhabitants.
As I write this true poem
without my second pair of eyes,
I can barely see the flashes
in the warm ink of night.
