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Let the Rain Keep Falling
O birthplace rain I take what I can from
your mouth, delivering myself
from spring seeds,
wetting my tongue
with your resilience.
And you warm my skin in segments,
I tried on a mermaid dress the other day, and waddled two steps before stripping it off;
I saw how it snagged on my hips and clutched at my chest,
the same way I gripped the towels we tripped in so many years ago—
our hair, stringy and streaming from the community pool
The cold gross floors
Stomp, stomp, stomp
Black tiny spaces
In shoes that stink
Im confined for hours upon hours
The rigid concrete tears holes in me
get lost in the bed sheets
The last thing to be grabbed from the bathroom floor
It wasn’t until I
could feel the wind
kissing my hand,
arm hanging out of
your old rusty van
that I realized that
I have a purpose
even if that purpose is purely
letting other people know
that sometimes
a little air is all you need