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.