photo by author.

rūpaṃ aniccaṃ.

sonnet.

a raft of stormclouds sweeps in from the west,
a mat of sodden cotton batting, dark
with moisture, pregnant with potential arcs
of mid-air lightning, violence expressed
to eyes below as muffled flarings - best
perceived peripherally, since the sparks
(like boiling water) shyly won’t embark
on action if they’re watched, and stay at rest.

the stormclouds lack a set, enduring shape
and dissipate to nothing when they’re pierced;
the furies they ignite, split-second gleams;

these entities that thunderously scrape
the sky - which flood the city with their fierce
emissions - dissipate to empty steam.

alex guenther. interview here and book here.