Burning with the evening sun — a shapeless, scarlet stainI ask you what your name could mean, and you whisper: “Rain.”The city’s drenched and stinking armpits choke me with cellophane.Sweating, gasping, heaving, panting, I keep on screaming, “Rain!”The pitter-patter, splosh and splatter, the pothole-stumbled sprainI ask them, children, “Who’s your mother?” they giggle and say,... Continue Reading →