Struck by Lightning in the Shenandoah River
He lumbers round behind my heart or lurks
Beneath the surface where he drowned. He floats
Submerged in memory and nothing works
To exorcise the agony which dotes
Around inside me. Under the stream
His dark locks nearly dissipate. They move
Too idly in a blackness like a dream
That turns to nightmare. They are in a groove
My soul cannot escape, are like his breath
He always struggled with. Cool aspic-clear
Conditions hold him. An asthmatic death
Embraces both of us, clinching like fear.
I reach my hand to touch his hair. His curls
Refuse my hand and disappear in swirls.