The fourth of ju-lie

delete.  Everything I said before,
I take it back.  delete.  If I don't
give it words-can it still live?
in my smooth muscle its action
potential driving a twitch.  An
influx of ions, kicking a fit.
flipping the old switch, lights
now dim.  writing it no longer
gives me the rush.  Just the wire
that used to be a sparkler. now
padded with crusty, compacted ash.
No longer useful for its original purpose
yet unable to function as anything else.
Just another piece of garbage to
throw out on Independence day.

Natural disaster

I pressed the button. My

Finger ached and hovered

Over it probably fifteen times

Before. And I resisted. This time

It was too easy. Liquid blocking

The impulse And it was done. 

The rush was too familiar.  Swirling 

In your tornado. Debris of each taste 

Each second sealed in my memory now

Flying past and all around me

Charged magnets and I'm metal. I

Force the storm still. Please 

level our house. Stay long enough

So I know it's completely 

Beyond repair. No lingering 

framework, studs, or electricity. 

Watch us on the news, reporters

Too smart to get close enough to 

See the demise. When it's over 

They'll wander pathetically through

Pointing out how our first kiss 

Was catapulted into nearby Nebraska,

And speculate when FEMA will arrive. 

They'll ask for donations for funds

allocated to rebuilding new 

residences to house these broken

hearts without acknowledging 

The harsher truth. Love will probably 

Come again, this time fresh and new. 

And there's no sense rebuilding.

There's not a damn thing we can do.