A SOUND SHARP ENOUGH TO COUNT—
Don’t explain yourself, she says—
Let the rain fall where it falls.
If you must
place buckets to catch the excess rainwater—
a prayer
in mindfulness—do not mind
if they also catch
debris, insects, extra fiber—
This is the way of things
This is what it means
to be human—we are all dancing
this dance we call life
for the first time, all wishing
we could be Jesus—
not to walk on the surface
of the water, but to know that
the tap of our shoes
is as crisp
as raindrops striking
a galvanized tin roof.
—Thank you for being here. If you’d like, you can also follow me on Substack, where this poem also appears.
