Lynn Burnett

Issue #
January 31, 2017

It Rains for Him

who loves it more than sunshine,

the streets so wet tonight, they are tongues

babbling in the dark—glossolalia—

they gleam baptismal, it’s like

the slosh of good wine in the mouth,

how many ways can it be praised? and

how auspicious!—easier to leave the house

he was born in twenty-one years earlier

when drop by drop it taps on every window

calling his name, and out he goes for a walk

(like having a bath sprinkled with Dead

Sea salts, he can’t help but wallow in it)

such a glad soak, hair dripping, shoes

squishing already reaching the corner

and look, the light is with him,

the interminable traffic has stopped,

the next step beckons—that wide avenue

known to swallow a man whole—

now’s when a mother crosses

her fingers—momentum will carry him

curb after curb walking on water like this.

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