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Waiting For The Rain To Tumble
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Published Works
He steps outside his house: does
not scream his defiance: therefore
not the portrait his long legs suggest.
Speaking mumbles to lawn ornaments
who see him only with painted eyes.
Ears forever closed: he does not
understand the silence. He prowls
in steps of measured distance:
waiting for the rain to tumble.
When it comes, it comes in trembles
of resistance. He understands he
must never get wet: must continue
to dry his towel under the dew of
morning. He paces the sidewalks
opening his ears to the fruit of
flapping leaves. In minutes he will
glow with the safety of ceasing to
exist: time transforming his created
distances. There are always static
murmurs which tingle his shallow skin.
