lightning and phlox I spent the whole day in obscurity this Sunday was over before it began, but now it smells like lightning and phlox as the the sound of the rain floated eastward and the petrichor wafted from the grass as the sturgeon moon began to outshine the distant lightning so brilliant it seemed to burn through the clouds like sun or perhaps they just parted in recognition of her the full moon of august barley, green corn, and sturgeon accompanied by a metallic yet spectral baying as if a lightning-struck tower were howling in agony I get the urge to call you every single night except for the moons. on the moons I just look up at my long suffering companion, pockmarked and scarred with craters and here I am reusing the same vocabulary to write to you again, but, that’s okay, because I get like this every moon and she’s the only one who really gets me.
Ishan Summer 15
