Sunday, June 19

dry floods

stop crying, pale girl
this is a dry spell and you mustn't waste water.
dust travels and lawns gape for rain,
insects crawl the streets in hopes of dew
but there should be no begging- not from you--

we are flooded, flooded with hot pavement
and we are inundated with stale air
so stay silent and satisfied,
strange and supernatural; and rise mysterious and rare.
take all you have, move yourself off the couch,
and save whatever you've got behind your eyes.

if i can remain, remind me;
if i can abstain, consider me beyond it
but there is a quiver in your voice we can't help but hear;
and the red rims around your eyes make us disbelieve your cheer.

so soothe the sting. take whatever it is away.
breathe sharply. hold it near. bite your lower lip and pray,
remember, remember-- someone else understands it better,
the jealous summer hiss of grass, teeth sharpen for the slaughter
but don't you make a sound.
this is a dry spell; don't waste water.

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