I can just about taste what kind of batter it's made out of,
If I can just turn my imagination into a tongue.
Last night you walked me home and I remember it
In the form of minutes ago,
Before nightfall came knocking on the door of the backyard.
Now it's drowning us and dyeing us in its favorite colors.
Now sleep the moon away until daytime comes around again,
When the sun repeats itself like history.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
