Nov/Dec 2018 • Vol. XL No. 6 Poetry |

Meditation on Rain

In a blue collusion of dusk and rain, the sky’s darkly shaking like horsetails flicking      off bloodflies. As you’d try switching off half-truths that fed on your skin, their little bites      distracting you from harder pain.      Nothing a hoof could gallop from. Nothing to ride here but air      coolly passing from stable to woods— each leaf a perforated heart— to the front porch of the blue house. As you ascend,      the steps darken behind you, night has its own quiet stepping—it is not      an abyss, not amorphous as once you felt—. How wavery the rain at the threshhold —

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In a blue collusion of dusk and rain, the sky’s darkly shaking like horsetails flicking      off bloodflies. As you’d try switching off half-truths that fed on your skin, their little […]

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