Blue Rain by Lori Yamamoto

grey sky spills slow a curtain of soft pennies i stand beneath yet not one drop finds my skin world drips away like watercolor left out i watch polite feeling folds into pockets wet clothes hug tight pretending they know sorrow underneath, dry skin forgets how to shiver quiet ocean laps the doorstep of my ribs one small corner holds its breath and bars the gate city blurs clear into a polite watercolor i own no map no clock, no umbrella now your love was spark a struck match against cold wind left only ash cradled in my cupped palms sky keeps crying a steady hush on the roof my tears retired before they could leave home i fade paper-thin a thumb-smudge on the evening echo of someone who once danced without asking wind tries a name soft as moth wings at the glass i stay silent already folded away moon walks past me pretending not to notice riverbed yawns empty, lips cracked with dust ache pours slowly a bitter wine in the dark laughter’s old seat gathers quiet like moss night leans closer asks if i’m finished yet i whisper maybe and let the hush finish me