9 January 2009 | Vol. 8, No. 4

Substation Sonnet

by SALLY MOLINI

Alien park across the street is usually

quiet, secretive, cloaked in evergreen.

Tonight, lightening amps the A-frames,

tilts the drone of my fridge and A/C—

surrounded by the daily buzz,

wonder if I percolate to the same

watt-worn beat. Lights go out,

storm pruning the trees, dark kitchen

good for thinking how too many shallow

currents run me. Another hot metal limbo,

summer's trace of a bigger disconnect—

I'm an unjuiced joule in a control-building

universe, silent in the shadows,

rain dripping silver off the eaves.