Fred Austere

lightning claps a thunderbolt into a teacup
and I take a sip. unabashedly.
just East of my Western predilections
on a shag carpet with all the dander
God’s pet may shed in a Lifetime.
my water bowl an Atlantic behemoth
as brackish as the next mind
cornered in a round room
with lights doing something
with their hands

as the shadows-

Ginger Rogers.