Secret Storms

The lightening comes in
long sideways windows.
I am sitting in my basement
on a couch that
smells like bonfire wood
that hasn’t yet been burned–
my secret getaway
right in the middle of the open
lights-out room.
It’s 1 am and I am
watching old episodes
of old TV shows
and laughing hard enough
I worry I might wake up
the house.

I hide away in storms.
I hide away in secrets.