Thursday, March 19, 2015


O rain, wash my eyes and my cheeks
My skin is dried and brittle
The heat of my heart fuels my thirst
O, do not watch me stand here
A flower in a desert of flowers
Falling into ruins, slowly and certain
Quench me with your body of tears
A gift of the moon to the sun to the stars
A church of several thousand partings
I look at its canvas and remember
Something that has been
Parting before