Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Lightning

By Joseph Hesch

When the lightning strikes —

that is, the figurative flash
whose true name would, rhyming,
complete the limp line:
“Like a shove from above
she alit like a dove,
my sweetest … ”
You get the picture.
When that electro-chemical brew fires,
even the steel-hardened among us
melt at our cores.
The shade of amnesia
pales even the brightest white
thermite glare to the flickering flame
of a single candle, teasing
the almost-illumination of
our shadowed, now-flown angel.
At that millisecond of
comforting blindness,
we welcome the truth:
lightning indeed strikes
maybe hotter, maybe harder,

in the same heart twice.


  1. It is an amazing thing, that same lightning strike more than once, isn't it?

    I love the weaving of styles and ideas here.

  2. ha yes - i get the picture...truly love this one joe...strong and tight write mr. hesch...made me smile as well...

  3. It's like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat when you're not looking...only nicer..

    love strikes like lightning
    waves of electricity
    glowing in your skies :)

  4. Holy Holy! I love that: completing the limp line. the staff of Moses...rod straight...and then a snake...and a staff again. You wonder if the firmness of our line is always penned by another. True name. There is no alphabet with which to spell it.

  5. One cool poem, Joseph. The thermal fire imagery, the lightning signifiying relationship -- one cool poem.