underneath the triangle of my thumb joint pointer finger
i hear the crack of lightning at my knuckle.
you are a thunder in my mind. static
through the rush of rain turned frying pan.
then my knuckles, ghosting
over each other, apparitions in the heat
crush
together. grinding until it snaps.
your hair coats my thoughts like a fine
layer of dust. i’ve breathed in too much of it
too much