WAIT

To the living and the dead:
Sorry I missed the mark,
Messed up the steps.
Call me a metaphysical
Klutz. Say that my very
Extremities moved in
The way of the target.
Something like lightning
Flattened me rigorously
But not unto mortis.

Someone please leave
A light on in the spare room
On the middle story so I
Can read the signs
Scattered like fragments
From an ancestor who
Inhabited an island
Of one, looking at a
Clear sky but knowing
A storm would come.