- the soft buzz of sunset in the Mississippi heat
humming to life, wavelengths of color
- remixed, reimagined in the desert
to match the tempo of war
- my husband appearing
on the screen, aroused
- and longing as mortar
warnings reverberate in the background
- like that one time we fucked
as tornado sirens wailed
- and hail ricocheted off the roof,
piled up like melting moth balls
- in the gutters—
I worried he might die,
- but he came home,
so we danced in the pale yellow
- light of the kitchen,
christened each room
- as if newlyweds
crossing thresholds,
- fumbling and finding ourselves
in the thrums
- of blood rushing,
wanting to hold onto the newness,
- wanting sex as sweet
as the Second Coming.