Leveler Poetry Journal
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Rain Poem

 

I’m listening to the rain smack itself into the house, and this isn’t even close

to how much I want your mouth on me tonight, how much I want

to be the cleanest water you will ever drink.

Summer is gone and I can feel the dark throat of winter starting to yawn across

the sky.

I think about myself inside this body, sitting in this bed I’ve never shared with

anyone,

while outside everything is dying and there’s a ladybug

on my ceiling who will never fall in love. My brother is sick. My daughter

is not here and if you die I’ll have to shoot myself so please

don’t make me leave my daughter.

There are so many daughters in the world and not

enough fathers. So many fathers and not

enough silk. Not enough robes. Not enough soft days where

nobody dies or talks about cancer, and so why

do I even bring it up? Sometimes I hate myself for being so sad,

but also I’m tired of these pretty pink glasses my therapist prescribed.

I’m tired of gluing all this glitter to my face, so tired

of not being naked all the time.

It’s all about perspective and no matter

how many stairs I climb I cannot see your face tonight,

so instead I’ll tell you about the Brillo pad I’ve tied to my wrist

so I can scrub away my skin cells as soon as they die

because I want to make sure you don’t ever have to touch anything less alive

than you.

Instead I’ll drink hot tea and build you a fort in my ribs, talk about all the

ordinary trees being weird in my throat. My body

forgot about darkness. My body is endless summer, knows that the sky

is so blue because you were born beneath it. My body is Easter

and she doesn’t know the word for goodbye. How much longer now

until you are inside? All week these words

have been so fucking dumb, dressing up like airplanes,

I break their wings with my teeth and still you’re alone in your apartment trying

not to drown.

This is me throwing you a lifeboat, pretending to be God, that this bright

velvet in my chest will somehow reach you like a morning in the middle of the

night.

I want to be your favorite penguin, every raincoat in the world.




Sarah Certa