Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 20
Thirty-three Days of Rain

Beauty looks away. The sky spits
open; the nickel-plated sound
of it destroys the peepersí din.

Bats, hummingbirds, grey moths
heave blindly side by side, slide
by each other in this relentless sea.

With every battering blink
of lightning, Zeus the Abuser smoothly
apologizes before the hit.

The animals scatter ‒ break up
their huddles, search
for a safe house, the dry place.

Dragonflies drown in this surge.
In the rafters of the barn some
find their way.

The morning, slight with hope.
It teems with a low drone of mercy,
nature-winged, captive, flightless.

Each Degraded Angel, a slug
upturned at dawn, bluntly probes
for beauty. A road back in.


Ominous Red
Image Copyright 2014,  A.J.Huffman

Poem Copyright 2014,  Lea Banks

Lea Banks has been published in several journals, including Big River Poetry Review, Poetry Northwest, Sweet, and American Poetry Journal. Recently, she was a fellow at the Vermont Studio Center. Author of All of Me (Booksmyth Press, 2008), Banks lives in Western Massachusetts.

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