The rain caught the bridge of my nose as it fell
like well-worn eyeglasses.
The droplets slip and drip
like winged tears from my lashes
beading upon my lips, my tongue draws them in
like curtains on a cloud-filled day.

I collect them in my palms and watch the rain as it slides
in and out of the canvassed divots of my skin.
Its reception is called with delight or simply accepted
by the pleating of my forehead upon the realization that
my tongue-lipped words can’t tantalize or talk.

The rain receded with more speed than it came.
Like a well-perceived fever never concurred by the weathervane,
I insisted it was there.

12/10/2003

Posted on 12/10/2003
Copyright © 2024 Gabrielle L Gervais