JACKPOT

When the weatherman foretells
a thunderstorm, go outside and wait
for the sky’s ceiling to light up
like a slot machine and spill out God’s

pawned jewelry. That is what lightning is,
isn’t it—your grandmother’s favorite ring,
your father’s crowned molar?
When the wind begins to throw itself

against the shutters, do not come in.
Ask forgiveness from everything
you have not done yet. Watch
as the sky finally becomes honest.

Stand in the rain until it has tried on
all of your skin. One day you will both
change forms, transfer from one
to another. Electricity up a kite string.

- Sierra DeMulder

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