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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