Home

rain Poems and Poetry
a polka dotted silence

Rain, a polka
dotted silence, reminds me of
autumn 2007 when I
found you in
Hillsboro Kansas. I adored your blue
soccershorts, lusted from a lawn
mower, earning
five bucks
an hour and watching glowing black
hair breeze in the sun. In your dorm, my
fingertips glossed brown freckled
cheeks, shivering
tears for your dead mother, and when you fell
asleep, my ribs came
warm in your breathing. Outside, it
stormed; delicate harmonic tones
chimed
against glass— inspiration music
to eager ears. I once was
someone who listened eagerly.
Not What You See

I saw a man with a wooden arm today,
not unlike the carved Pinocchio that I have
sitting on my dresser, (short nose missing).

At least I -thought- it was a wooden arm.
Turned out to be an umbrella handle,
tucked under his actual arm.

It was pouring rain, though
so I'm not sure why he wasn't using it.

Speculation:
Maybe his wife made him take it
and he's a "MAN"
and didn't like the flower pattern-
or maybe he wanted to feel the rain on his face;
blink his eyes at the water, as it fell from his hair

But then the light changed
he moved toward the bus
Syndicate content