Why Does Rain Cast This Longsome Spell?
My hummingbird’s perch, that highest twig,
has no leaves. Today, no bird.
I call the vacancy sorrow.
A door ajar:
should I question the necessity of doors?
Last night one dream warned me
of the other before I woke to a nimbus,
no words to speak of.
The mood has fallen,
is still falling. I don’t think low pressure
is an accurate term for this weather.
Once, my sister-in-law stood by the sink
while the ice cream melted
in its cardboard tub.
Now she insists she has no sister-in-law.
The first dream, like a fissure, had no door.
The second, no windows.