Sounds Like Rain
a thousand large wings; the tickings and tocks
of a thousand small clocks; fifty sprung springs
on the dark dark sidewalk; sometimes, I say,
it’s like padlocks tsking around their keys;
burning sod; burning trees; burning knee socks
cracking blackly on their pins; picture breeze,
I say, when you’re dying to sleep; it pings
your lips like pine shade; blood is not it; day-
light flapping home to its cave sounds like rain,
but is loneliness; when you cyclone through
the spellbook’s pages for the antidote,
that’s close; close your eyes and listen for blue;
if enough of it falls, you’ll need a boat;
you’ll need to float on what you’ve never seen.
