2,694 Readings


The overcast sky is inept,
rainless. That’s fine –
we don’t ask for much.
All that the sky withholds:
lovers of rain, lovers
just the same, the right key
to enter the classroom
too cold for the students’
liking, did I say affection?
from my father? Did I say
it to his, oh forget it.
Our ability to detect
beauty and sublimity.
Our lack thereof. Our
failing, not the sky’s.
It’s raining cats and dogs
and nihilism. Somewhere.
It’s raining cats and they’re
not the domesticated
kind. I believe in the miracle
of kindness
is some terrible
cliché one never finds
in grocery store parking lots
or traffic court. Take it
from me: My unheard of
expectations and I sit
on a throne of broken umbrellas.
Posted 09/18/11
Comments (0)