She sat, curved over the high red wall,
the rain fat about her face and shoulders
and straining off her naked toes like liquid fire.
She sang, waterlogged as her breath or bare skin,
her lips heavy with meaning and her lashes with faith, and
her hips engraving themselves in ridges like stutters
as her notes drenched the sky right back –
fell through worlds into his hungry mouth
as he screamed prayers from his knees in the dark.
discordant melodies, all.
Copyright © Hana Ryusaka