rain falls from its sieve, separate but equal reflections mistaken for my face at first at last passing headlights swing and stretch from drop to drop a veil of unity false. splatter of sifted drops syncopated and dissonant. memories. past injustices cling, like oil to the puddle’s surface
sometimes though distorted i cannot pardon the glimpse of my own skin
headlights emerge and merging crashing. destruction then drive on
walk down the avenue when next you get the chance watch the stars burst way before you can count them notice the sky spit a black rain from a white ball of unhope see two drops land in a puddle on the street and burn holes straight through the universe
this is. isn’t. we are. aren’t. will. won’t. oil and water denouncing apart. refusing together forever this way stuck a combustible potential
Holly Shupp Salas, a San Antonio native and Austin resident, is an instructional specialist for a Texas education service center. She taught grades 7-12 in Texas public schools and was a gifted and talented specialist. She earned a bachelor’s degree in journalism from Texas Christian University and a master’s in curriculum and instruction in literacy from the University of Texas Arlington. When asked why she writes, she answers: “I write because I should. Everyone should!”
