One of mine from thirty years back:
Storm Lightning, Charleston
Juice rises in straw like bad wires,
current flash from nave to buttress,
unseemly, followed by whacking thunder.
Harpy’s hammer against
an old man in the alley on New Year’s eve,
smashing his kitchen pot,
his household hammer.
Death in the grass,
in the sidewise rain,
birds flee to the
side turned leaves,
all their palms up.