Heat Lightning
by Susan Waters
Little girl waiting by a mumbling stream
not even knowing the name of what she wanted.
Nervous teen, waiting
by a phone into the long trembling night
only the insects
—all noise and crass, calling to each other—
seemed content.
I always was waiting
for love
even though it held my hand
sang my name
wrapped its tendrils around my bones
I must have thought
love was a hitchhiker
with a look in his eyes
that meant
the road is long, is calling.
About the Author
Susan Waters started out as a journalist covering hard news in upstate New York and for 13 years was a magazine editor and writer at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science, College of William and Mary. Her publishing credits are extensive. She has won 10 prizes in poetry and has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry. Her chapbook Heat Lightning was published in 2017 by Orchard Street Press. Currently, she is Professor Emeritus at New Mexico Junior College.