From Remembering the Dead, a new book of poems by R. Saint Claire The Old Thundercloud Comes like black dread Chasing angels into other worlds. Where? They never said. Its lightning companion does his dance, The crackled dance. A sad display really. The old clown a show-off- Oh! Bring the angels back— Scattering all, even the brave, A black anvil and light show dance. Till the young ones, plagued and bent Say “No, No!" Throw their sticky bodies on the ground And weep stern, boisterous Showers of amethysts.