Revising the rain


Photo by Anant Jain on Unsplash

She knew from the very start
Which mountain the sun came from
For eyes can be deceiving in rain.
Fountains are rain corralled by man 
I’m tempted into sleeping on your neck. 
A servitude of roses.
In which green bay does the rolling sea spy on me
That’s deep, but not at all clear. Like seawater,
Salty lagoons on tropical oslands are lost on me.
Kind of like fantasy. Is.

You knew from the very start
That in your heart of hearts
I do not have a way to deal with the sea,
Water is just a better sort of wound
Water wishes from the very beginning
That human hands remain unpolluted by blood
That is the key to the music box hidden in the secret
Water garden, where the sluice is always closed, where puddles
Stray from stories, where water dilutes the tears of lovers.
Simple but astonishingly wet before you know it
You are. Water has the urge to repeat. So, when I reach the end of your hand
You reach the end of the bridge, 
The bridge over the ridge, the very verge of doubt;
Eject me from this river
Soak me in the sun
I break it to you:
Dreams do come true.
Passing clouds and waves and tides
Do not hide the magic in my eyes
I went and went and went

For years and decades and my whole lifetime
I took the shade of this old water tree,
Even though she was tired and broken,
I’d love to see you
Kiss the sun with wet lips
Drink the water of life
See my heart melt.


◄ An Irish love poem

The sting ►


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