there's always a drought,
and i'm teaching myself to drink dust
as you tear your tears
from their humid hate
and my thick chest air catches cold
and wet, the rain, the heavy gray
the sodden, sopping, stuffed thick air
the pressure pushing on my shoulders:
i feel like rain.
I really like the whole of the last stanza. Again, the ending is a power line! It's lovely.
ReplyDelete"Humid hate" is interesting. "Thick chest" is also a really odd descriptor. Love the weather imagery!