by John McKernan

From the
Republic of Lightning

granite tombstones
melted brass nameplates

Set vast oak trees
On fire
Water towers

It would be OK with me
If lightning would slither
Deep into the earth
So the dead
Could prowl this earth again

I’d rather meet
My Father’s
Rickety skeleton
On Q Street in South Omaha
Than in the booming nightmares
of my nights

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