Storms by A. C.

I come from monsoons and vapor

And lacewing frost on windowpanes

From the green smell of creosote and catclaw acacia

In tumbled rock washes

Where I cut my teeth on hailstones

I come from cumulonimbus and ozone

And a lowering horizon in slate and steel

Struck like flint

The galvanic taste of copper wire

And an atmospheric impulse of 300 million volts