She wasn’t there a second ago
I flinched the way I used to
“The Old Ways are not dead.”
What was she saying?
“What. . .?”
that was all I got out of my mouth
then the sound of the Universe quaking. . .
It was the mind smashing groan of instrument
the size of a sky scraper
The sound of a square mile of sheet steel
being played like a violin string
And it was in everything
Touching everything. . .
She caught me as I fell
and her smell was ozone
Electric and blue
That and her palm slapping my face
brought my focus back
“You can’t afford the luxury of slumber
You must be made ready.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to save this miserable little planet. . .”