“Self Storage” read the sign

(a little worn with time, like the best of us).

An intriguing idea, so

I pulled into the parking lot,

meandering inside.

Lightning trembles across the night sky

White punches which glaze the deep blue darkness

in shades of purple

(a bit of royalty, a bit of a bruise).

Death kindly came to visit me, and though I first was scared,

He has a busy schedule, so to come must mean he cared.

He stood beneath the lemon tree, which never does grow fruit.

The summer sun shone brightly down as we eyed each other, mute.

I didn’t like driving through the storm,

through the thundering heart of it,

Yet made it home

and in the doing,

Found triumph.

I am eating while nursing my baby

Cradled in one arm

He fills my lap

making tiny grunts, squeaks, and gurgles