Handful of Rain

In hawkweeds in July rain leaves
such a frangible heart on petals and mud.

Your death came so savagely silent.
Under the cherry trees rain scatters its breath

on pigeons and bark and the bleeding shape of sidewalk
welcoming this wanderer before it leaves again.

When I follow the moonlight through the deaf violet clouds
I listen to what the rain might reveal.

I never thought I'd know about never going home again.
How shaky the butterfly, and raindrops
slipping through my hand.

copyright 2006 Nanette Rayman Rivera
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