In the rain, we have potential 

–It’s where all things come to take root–

while running water, rings 

like a melody I used to hum,

cycled between my toes 

and up my legs. 

Oh, how I used to dance– 

fifteen; bloodied blisters on the souls of my feet

all that– 

I could give in; bloody noses, drenched makeouts,

the shelter found under my duvet.

let the downpour be torrential, 

when the water rushes, I rush– 

in the rain-made river 

where my boots collapse like stars.

let the downpour destroy–

But let us be a spring shower. 

In the rain, we still have potential 

–It is where all things come to grow–

it still reeks of dirt and trees; 

the waft of warm July mornings 

and a cold March dusk.

I was twenty at fifteen 

I am still fifteen at twenty–

in the morning rain,

post salt stream, 2 am, walk home 

I wash you off of me. 

damp, it’s still drizzling

my wet hair dripping, 

the cut on my finger scabbing over. 

In the rain, I still have potential 

–It’s where all things come to blossom–