Really Really Beautiful - Blog Posts
Miles of Rain
The days after school haven't met change
Since times seasons revolved round the sun
You still wait by the corner lane
And I walk up after the bells have rung.
We eat a mouthful of your smoke
And break off bits of corn to make cake
Before we slip into the deep red of the
Bell-cracked wine glass with a rake
On Wednesdays you say, my hair looks nice,
That's for the soap I needed to save till
The next month so we didn't run out of rice.
There is, you know, comfort in unwashed mill
And yet more softness in hands that are soiled
To the nails in lovers' mud and dust.
It is only the shortness of one arm that
Asks to be coupled to twos at first.
Still, your fingers are long enough
To meet both ends and still cup snow
For us to breathe in the iced snuff,
To keep awake among the rafters below
For a few moments more.
We laugh at eachother's smiles
Lie forgetting and run wilder than raccoons
In Philadelphian winters, though miles
Of shadow could never erase these monsoons.
Unless you make it so, these months
Don't hold weddings or coronations
Or those hourly bypasses to coffee haunts,
But as it is, the gaps are fit to ration.
It has always been the dry edge of monsoon
Since times the seasons revolved round the sun.
- pollosky-in-blue