Atmospheric Rivers
Wet infantry parachutes
from a white-gray sky
We begged for rain
Now trees choke
on fluid
Drops burrow my t-shirt
My warmth
a foreign language
I want to be as careless
as cloud
So giving
Sometimes too much
Blood is mostly water
Maybe I’ve shed
too much, too soon
Drowned what I meant
to nourish
Water reaches for itself
and gathers
Some becomes a river but
the ground a grave
for all of us
Also by Charles Jensen
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