How I Learned To Smell The Rain

Comments (0) Issue 2, Poetry, Writing

How I Learned To Smell The Rain

A Poem for Devi Lockwood

By A.T. Halaby

 

I let the thunder sit on my

chest

as I slept

 

as each drop of rain was paused,

waiting to

 

make its move toward the earth.

 

Just then I witnessed sets of arms

reaching out

as if meeting another

to kiss.

 

It’s this love I know, this love

I breathe,

it’s this warm, moist air cooling and

condensing.

 

The thunder booming on my chest

rippling its voice through my body.

 

Then the lightning: the bright, bone-white

electrostatic discharge strikes

 

making space between the endless and

long sapphire space.

 

Its transformative silhouette

 

breaking up the blue in the

the sky

 

causing a temporary tear

in the earth’s canvas.

 

What I only see in a moment

I bet feels like a lifetime

of tiny pulsing pinches.

 

Poet-friend, I smell rain and I feel

tiny hands clasping around my body.

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