Jar

Type is memory
stored outside the head—
crop for which we’re born
--but I prefer this brief flight
remain in you instead,
jam jar of lightning.

Attempting installation:
remember it, and it’s real enough
to be harvested
10,000 years from now,
in the resurrection life
of stories
retold.

Our deaths fall,
rain upon a sea.
In legend, we rise
and roam in wisps
...waterspouts.