by Christopher Raley


Last night memory called me awake.

3:30 am like broad daylight.


In the livingroom rain crackled

against the south facing window.

I watched it streaking globe-like kingdoms


of streetlight’s twin boundaries in air

and sidewalk.  Identically

yellow and shining and empty.


I was born into a drought

and have never forgotten rain’s

first claim of wonder on my eyes.


Now I tell all things in two states:

one is dry, featureless, brown,

and the other chained yet wild,


fanciful and falling.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s