Thursday, May 29, 2014

Umbrella

Why stay dry when you can be

Wet? Soaking, gloriously rain-drenching wet
Thin rivulets of cold running through
steaming fabric, over ribs, over thighs, dripping
from wrists onto bundles of fast-wrinkling
books, into bags, into the parched thirsty ground

Until cracks fill with clay, drips become streams,
and earthworms rise in slow panic, reaching for air,
finding only the sharp beaks and grinding bellies
of gleeful red robins, or the tender hands of small children
on a mission to rescue who they can, god-kissed

Or, on the other hand,
you could always just use
your umbrella.

Rachel Westfall
May 29, 2014

2 comments:

christopher said...

Interesting that my post and your post seem to come from the same source. However, my posted poem was not new. It was written a few weeks ago. I have a friend in Singapore and we write with each other kind of like what has happened with us. That poem came out of that collaboration.

I hope the earthworms don't drown.

Rachel Westfall said...

Christopher, I thought I had replied. Maybe my note withered. I did notice that yours was part of another collaboration. That's great!