"Finistere"

The sky cracked open
three hours ago,
rivulets of silver
and black
screeching down
the pane like
diamonds
on glass,
melting the world
beyond my room
into Dali forgery.

I remember walking
past your house
in a torrential downpour,
soaked to the bone
and frozen in
thin cotton t-shirt,
skirting the halo of
lamplight,
hoping to see you
through the window,
hoping not
to see him.

The weight of the rain
on my body
echoed the weight
on my soul,
the flash of lightning,
the clap of thunder
timed to synaptic dance
and heartbeat,
and I felt both alive
and dead at once.

Sitting here now
in front of my window,
all underwear and anger,
Tom Waits on the juke,
Barbaresco on the desk,
and wishing
the rain would stop
never.

©2008 Chris Stanifer