clouds still roil, dark as wraiths who invade my sleep. A shaft of light pierces their folds, brightens the field where cattle graze as though the storm never bruised, as though they never bawled, eyes flashed with lightning. They have forgotten, lower their heads for grass made sweet again, while I still feel the drench, remember how thunder crippled me with dread, how I flattened my soul against the earth to escape notice by the gods.
Sarah Russell’s poetry and fiction have been published in Kentucky Review, Misfit Magazine, Rusty Truck, Third Wednesday, and many other journals and anthologies. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee. She has two poetry collections published by Kelsay Books, I lost summer somewhere and Today and Other Seasons. She blogs at SarahRussellPoetry.net.