Poetry Contest #6 - Winner
by Evelyn Deshane
They say when she was pregnant, lightning struck.
A yellow ball of light rolled over the grass,
through the backyard, and into the windows.
It shook the house, knocked the power out, and left
burn marks, singed carpets, and melted cords
in its place. She was okay. Barefoot and holding
candles - but okay. A tree in the back
was split in half, its insides on the out,
now simple blackness instead of bark.
Come morning, father wanted it gone
but she hung onto its roots for dear life.
Years passed; insurance rebuilt the house.
The baby was born - a girl. They call me
Electra for what happened that night.
That tree is gone now, and so is my father
along with his lightning bolts. When I was
still young, I used to ask where I came from,
but my mother grew silent and stared at the sky.
Next: "Restlessness", poem.
Keywords: evelyn deshane, mother, father, lightning, mythology, wax, poetry, art, canada's art magazine
and specified artists.