If I Were Smarter, I’d Be More Afraid
by lois roma-deeley

Perhaps it’s too early in the morning
or maybe it’s still very late at night?
Suddenly words fly out my mouth
like startled birds scattering before a hard rain.
Call them back
says the winter storm. And I know I should
rescue those fleeting thoughts,
care for these lost and hungry pilgrims
shivering in the wind.
If I were smarter, I’d be more afraid because

outside ghosts dance
in a circle of crackling white light.
They feel their way
into living bodies, settling at last
deep inside their bones.
Suddenly the sky splits open. Trees explode.
But then I remember
on the rooftop of this house, a lightning rod holds fast;
the copper wire reaches up,
even as it runs down
straight through the heart
and into the storm soaked ground.