Electric

I go in and pay my electric bill –

The till racks open like a grand mal fit.

A ghost refrain

makes me whip out my phone

but the screen is dark.

The square church,

stray leaves

birch bench tarred dark –

I leave the shop and sit down.

Fields slope in furrows –

scars in an angry brow,

mud, a bone, some feathers,

sun burning, long and slow.