Rain

 By Terra Wolfe

Tapping on my night, like rain,

                                    faces I have loved pour

                                                                        through my stomach.

Joy of memory

ache of memory

                        dropping           into

                                                            my bed.

 

The half-empty

            half-full

                        of having

                                    known them.

 

Each

            trickling off

                                    left a rut

                                                      widening the stream bed

                                                                                      for others to fill

                                                                                                 and flow beyond.

            I know each one

            the eyes,

            the laugh          

            the curl of hair in the forearm

            the flex of leg.

 

The skin,            

the way it soaked

through my skin.

 

 

The ripples in the surface

                                    just before

                                                it fell away.

 

                                                                           My life has been a flood of you.

 

                                                                      My life has been a dance of waves.

 

                                                                      My life has been a dry cracked bed

                                                                                    of moister memories.

Copyright Terra Wolfe 2006

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