Thunderstorm

We limboed underneath the limb of a broken broom
in a broken room where sky and earth and
fire fell from heaven. We intertwined our fingers and lips
and hips and sang the song from the dawn
of time. We spirited away on drumbeats and skipping
stones and silk sheets, crying to lost children
and lost time. We harbored ships and skiffs and sailboats
as we skimmed across choppy waters. We
dove off cliffs, flew with gulls, stampeded with antelopes.
We lit firecrackers that danced at our feet, shot
bottle-rockets that tore through our hair. We were wing-
beats and wildfires and panting dogs and
elevator shafts and thunder-claps. We spewed fireflies,
destroyed virgin pines, laid amongst lions.
We receded back into the dirt, the sky, and the smoldering ashes
as we floated away with sun-soaked driftwood.