Missed
Rain outside I am not in:
I am the boy
catching spit in his hands
If I could weave the fibers of my clothes
through the grated entrance
of the storm drain, until I was naked
until it was flooded, until all the people
came rushing from their housing units
to shovel water off their porches
to yell into pillows of thunder
Can’t you see we’re drowning!
Would I earn being hated with so much
stomached love, looked upon with envy
closer to something lost like
the back teeth and spleen were for?
Could you even tell me from the water?
Both of us a single thing more than we are
our parts, the ants and the bats and the
dead grasses laughing, the lightning
Rain outside I am not in:
but you’re over now
unedit 
Beautiful piece. I like your use of words and the imagery they create.
This is very powerfully written and I love the ‘pillows of thunder’ line.
I really enjoyed this – especially the opening and closing lines.
wow! what a great poem. it’s both visceral and vivid. thanks also for liking my most recent post.
‘the animal, closer to something lost…’.
I thought this line and the following reference to ‘back teeth and spleen’ were the most efficient and clever parts of the poem.
I’m gratefully lost and found here
🙂