Lightning, far off, which dimly
illuminates gray clouds and mist,
heard ten Mississippis later
is not to be feared.
It is the jagged streak electric,
the immediate rumbling roar,
the dimming light by the chair.
That is the damaging demon demonstrating
the Bitch’s temper.
That’s the one to fear.
We think.
But now our world is wired to tight
a box on a pole struck so far from here
we cannot see or hear
can plunge us into darkness.
Our screens go blank,
glowing bulbs go dark
and we never knew what hit us.