sorry for the dark

I am raining outside the window,

Gnashing my thunder

And yelling like a gunshot.

It is hard, like wet floorboards,

To be away from the one you love.

It pushes in one way and pulls in others

and makes the space grow.

Where I live, thunder almost caught me on my bicycle

death was all around me,

So I was afraid to raise it up in the darkness

For fear I would be found.

They are looking again,

White cloaked, ready.

My brother said he was not bullied as a child,

While we sat and ate grilled vegetables

And drank white whine and pulled slivers

Of raw fish onto our paper plates.

The whole sky is coming apart tonight.

After the moon eclipsed us,

She said there would be signs

Of the natural order disintegrating.

But I think this is just hard.

The ones I love are gone,

And the world is quiet except for

Bursts of thunder,

Except for the memories of being called “little jew”,

and the taste of dirt.

It is the natural order—things breaking in ways

That will not be put back together.