Thunder

when the thunder rolls in, it drags with it
pieces of debris, remnants of the city after
an electrical shock. i am still working on
remembering the correct answer, but i have
no more guesses.

when the sun sets again, the zephyr is shunned.
go east, you silly wind, and stop taking
more. stop talking, too, so thoughts can be heard,
beneath the honking. you've gone,
and that is final.

without interruption, the circadian rhythms
of the hunters are reset to that of the prey. in the
night, i think about what else i am, being hunted.
my words copious but empty, easy to dismiss, jewelry
for a demoted princess.