Skin Effect

by Seth Jani

The deep music of the sky
is paper thin, and the fire
erupts through it, incinerating
the book with its engraven clouds
until the landscape is covered
in shine and ash.
Who turns the dial
on the electric heavens
sending their primal fear
through the wind and trees
and into our own erratic hearts?
We aren’t beyond anything.
The base flame still startles us
from our blue-soaked sleep.
What is secret and elemental
still pulls us from ourselves
with its flicker of sacred names.
When the storm hits,
the sizzling in our bodies
reminds us that we are just
a thread of ancient nerves.