Nimbostratus
I hold her within unpartable
muzzle of gray, in day
on day blank stare of sky.
I’m dreaming the stratosphere,
the she she cannot become,
the layer onto which the glory
of the birds is borne.
The more the rain,
the more she comforts me.
Goodbye, mornings of night,
days dim with slate grass,
the absent street.… Read the rest