the clouds will not, and so the earth
breaks. in places, the broken
travels deep as sorrow after death of a vow
abandoned: storms would fill the beds of ocean
and river; in turn, they'd mirror heaven's face
in all its occurence.

i pace this broken in silence; it's difficult to navigate
another's heart. brown grass that once spoke in skitter
crunch beneath my feet, offers only husk-mute implosion
- everything pulled out of it. the sun, sad yellow, sits
high in the slate, pauses,
continues.

- reverse chronolgy. stories told backwards.

pulling me like a wind sock behind you, bent back umbrella
slowing your intent. it was only rain; soft, broken glass
slivering us into its mirror: house, house-statue,
tree-billboard, face - mine, multiplied through
your smooth, flat surface. a sharp shot sheet downpour
scored with images collected inside a cumulus freedom.

breathe in.

did you save me that day from drowning?
was the shelter we found really safety?

after the floodgates recoupled - past, pooled at our feet.
old selves, too many to save, floating whitecapped.
possibility in brief offering - a mirror's reprieve,
i was new to you in our lost direction.
for that fractal of time, we might have chosen
any way we wanted.

drops fall still from the falling
weight of my hair. crystal balls tossed
like un-numbered, sideless dice. blank faces
predicting complete worlds,
each in itself; future falling inconsummate.
let it fall - fall many, fall singular,
one down a windshield - rivulet
riveting my eyes
to my eyes,
reflected,
one captive
trajectory
traced back to
your own soul
and mine -
and then
back still
to downpour -
sky, just behind,
the sun's
weak spark
suggesting
Light.