Driving Away

For the tide came in today, patiently.
Raining early, salting windows.
I thought, honesty is rain,
and weeping, stoplight after stoplight
So little of me inside this constant skin.
I was not loved, I know, and my love,
was a miracle that healed nothing,
scarred instead.
A cathedral ringing inside itself,
falling in and dredging up
the need for bridges
The looming reminder of flesh slipping
from the bones,
Roadkill buoys, the trees
backing from the roads, the
ditches pretending to be rivers.
Why do these storms cloud my head?
Why does it rain in the desert?

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