Salvation Rain

Salvation Rain

I stand beneath a bathing rain

watching it fall in syllables

too numerous for poetry

outweighing my need to breathe

nights of brackish city air

those endless nights of witch’s tales.

It is my need to watch

that which hangs my life each day on threads

suspending me like a spider

above the uncertainty of death

evoking me to greater heights

orgasms of a mental sort.

Rain a fluid poultice drawing

on festered boils of memory

heals the acne of my history

rain cascading down my darkened window

seals me in a womb of warmth

where I will stay and wait

for freedom

for yet another rain.

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