The Becoming of Storm

You have been exceedingly silent
for the whole Summer
I am not sure why
but you really scare me
I have tiptoed around you
just to keep the peace
And yet the awkwardness is so apparent
even the blowfish in the tank
gives me that ‘You are in trouble, lady!’ look

Falling asleep has become
more and more labouring
Those rolling grunts is fast approaching
I am trying to meditate it away
but my heartbeat betrays me
by increasing frantic waves of convulsion

Eventually
I am violently woken in pain
induced by the whipping
of holy thorns
on my vulnerable flesh
my blood is lightning silver
perfect for the charging storm