In the Thunder
By: Steve Klepetar | Posted on: March 2018
Let caskets fall from rock ledges,
let barrels tumble down the hills.
Let everything break open and spill
across the mountainside.
Let it all scatter and subside,
dwindle and disappear.
Someone will hear a voice
in the thunder, and her eyes
will roll and burn.
She will gesture to the wind.
When she speaks, hawks wheel
in the sky.
Magic clings to her, sticky
and wet, potent in her hands.
What has she brought from distant peaks?
What fiery words, carved by lightning
onto tablets she flings into gorges
where we wait, breathless and ashamed?
Steve Klepetar lives in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. His work has appeared worldwide, in such journals as Chiron, Deep Water, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Muse: India, Night Garden, Poppy Road Review, Snakeskin, Voices Israel, Ygdrasil, and many others. Several of his poems have been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Klepetar is the author of fourteen poetry collections and chapbooks, the most recent of which include How Fascism Comes to America (Locofo Chaps), Why Glass Shatters (One Sentence Chaps), and o filho da bebedora de café (The Coffee Drinker’s Son), translated into Portuguese by Francisco Jose de Carvalho.