In the shower
thoughts of becoming  
lightning again

and teeth hurt, 
back sore. Where 
will wanting go 

when the body 
jams, stutters, sticks. 
I’m mourning already 

what’s lost because 
I know more is to follow 
little by little. Suds down 

a drain, mixed with bits 
of hair and burnt flesh, 
my wife saying speak up,

how can I help you when 
all I hear is crackle.