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Description
when it rains
I twirl across the front lawn
with my face upturned
or kneel in the swelling grasses
to watch thin waves pour
in an endless conga line
down the driveway.

perhaps I’ll skip
to the true river, spread myself
on a narrow ledge
and let the steady roar
wash over me
all fear of falling
whisked away downstream;

and I’ll pretend not to feel the eyes
of passerby, I’ll pretend that
there are no eyes, no ears,
no day or night, only blinding gray;
and I am on a ledge waiting, waiting
for the rain to dissolve me
or for the river to wash me away.