Grounding

The fridge cut its hum and the kitchen went wide,

leaving me stuck with the darkness inside.

I watched through the glass as the wind took a swing

at the neighbor’s old gutter, that flimsy white thing.

It rattled and buckled and tore from the wood,

not holding the way that a gutter really should.

And the rain hit the AC, a handful of grit,

like gravel being thrown by a ghost in a fit.