Robin Holcomb Electrical Storm
Woman with
A child’s dress on
Long hair
Drapes the arm
That cradles a daughter
Who would sleep
Blacks eyes open
And beating
But is afraid
Little cat
His hair set on end
Bolts from a sleeping coil
At a sound that you know
You have heard in your dreams
O, come
To the window my darling
Your heart repeats my own
These long rooms are dark
The might not much brighter
From here we can watch the road
A small man is catching
The hot knife that flies
O, hush little baby, you’re crying
And your tears taste like the rain
Woman with
A child’s dress on
Long hair
Drapes the arm
That cradles a daughter
Who would sleep
Blacks eyes open
And beating
But is afraid
