I saw the child.
I saw her tilt
her face
to the sky.
The rains are
clearing
the streets
cigarette butts
spiral into
gutters
trees drink
ankle-deep
soft earth
turns to
rivers
and change
the face
of the world.
The hundred year
old woman’s tears
flood down
her face
into
heaving
seas.
The child’s face
in bliss.
She takes the rain
in every pore.
The rain is love.
The rain is love.
I don’t like sweet things.
I want to taste the earth
in what I take in.
Sugar dresses up
bitter,
a constant smile
belying fangs
or like cotton candy,
all air
spun high
leaving me
solo.
Orcas charming,
playful
– then
Bam!
I’m bitten clean through.
They say I’m too cynical
but maybe I just believe
in your scowl, sour
’cause I see all the flowers
blooming in a glorious sunrise
when you spring a smile.
Yeah, you mean it.
I can taste the earth in you.
Maybe we were
born to water
and with new arms
and legs,
newborn-blind,
we climbed onto
the river’s shore
maybe the land
claimed us,
reeds and grasses
bound our ankles
and gave us
names
maybe swimming
in the currents
in the deepest eddys
are strange fish
like us
maybe the water is
both calmer
and deeper
than we think
so we could not
stand if we entered
nor breathe though
maybe if we jumped now
we’d remember who we were
just at that moment
of birth
maybe then we’d swim
to the bottom
and touch home.
