—for Gabe After singing you to sleep, I lay you down. Outside, a week of heat ends in streaks of lightning and rain. A close strike cracks the black egg of night, blanches blue-white the curtains by your crib. You sleep, though suddenly illumined like bone in an x-ray, like a candled egg. Air and earth boom, then rumble back to a solace of water and wind. Small in this thunder, I lean over your crib, listen to your breath, and wonder what the lightning struck, and where and when it will strike again. ____
Matthew Murrey‘s poems have appeared in many journals such as Prairie Schooner, Poetry East, Split Rock Review, and Under a Warm Green Linden. Matthew is the recipient of an NEA Fellowship, and their debut collection, Bulletproof – selected by Marilyn Nelson – was published in February 2019 by Jacar Press. Matthew works as a public school librarian in Urbana, Illinois, and can be found online at https://www.matthewmurrey.net/ and @mytwords on Twitter and Instagram.