Simple Spring Showers From My Fathers Cabin
Fast, always too fast as it hits the roof
spills , pours over eaves
and the wisteria suffocates
playground jacks
scatter across laughter’s single
cloud of grey white light.
Arms rest on a splintered shelf
keeps the life outside,
i press a tiny index finger
write a coded breath note
against the single pane
clutched with water varicose veins;
can it see me smile from my chest
lay its softness across
dogwood blossoms
concentrate to hear them feed.
A final kiss of spring clings to her
slip, reveals a true body
out of grammar into new flesh;
if I too tilt back my head,
open my mouth,
funnel in rain,
become the springtime blossom,
will I drown?
Copyright © Jason Johnson | Year Posted 2009
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