Have you ever seen a poet perform
who turns the lights on for you?
her words laid out as a copper conductor
hot to ground voltages on a an inductor
the world is languid
therefore the artist exists
arc to my soul a high voltage
on the summer nights
could you hear the transformer
humming in our suburban back yards?
I too, write poetry, drunk, beneath the stars
she uses electricity like a goddess
humming transformers in their green boxes