It has not ceased to rain for even a moment today.
I am in my comfiest sweater, thickest jeans, a scarf
I wear in defiance of the pangs it gives my heart,
And I cannot seem to get warm.
Watching the puddles colonize every walkway,
I think of pots and pans placed by plush friends
When the Hundred Acre Woods threatened to flood.
Thirsting pots and pans leads thoughts to a boy
I never knew, his memory an undulating
Shadow across family history.
I tell myself I would construct an ark
If only I wasn’t so tired and maybe
It’s even true.
But with the shoreline so far,
The sky so close,
All lighthouses mirage iridescent,
Easy to choose the storm,
If only for proximity.
Days like today, I wish
To live in a reverse globe,
Looking up at water shaken by tragedienne
Winds. Perhaps the pressure will condense
All the heavy in me to carbon fiber angel hair,
Or perhaps even this deep, the roar of
Zephyr waves will swirl like escaped gales
Through this clarity
To orchestrate duet with my own wailing