tethered

Tethered

perhaps, if i asked

for a cloudshape to linger

and for skies to gray, then i must wish,

as well, for the will to remain,

to wait out the rain, to find joy

in the noise, in the dance, in the drumming

of light taps built up to a cacophony

of thundering. if i asked for drowning,

that I might find pleasure in

the departure of the very wind that once

teased my lungs, then i must find my peace, there,

sleeping just beneath the film of tears

embracing a raincloud. and if i wanted to hear

what I wanted to hear, i must not

sit idly here. i will need an umbrella and

the patience to wield two feet, a

tolerance for splash, a (lavender) raincoat, and,

of course, i would need my ears. perhaps

if i wished for you, i would have to refrain

from wishing for anything else — but rain,

no one ever asked for rain, and yet it comes,

and stays, because

a cloudshape needs to linger —

in its heaviness, there

is a silent wish to remain.

but maybe we all secretly

wish for rain. after all,

what are we if not forms

floating aimlessly about,

surely heavier

than we care to admit; as cloudy as clouds,

drifting ever-closer

into our near-raining-out.

— A. P.

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