Susan Milchman | Poet and Writer

I couldn’t sleep

last night.

Something about

the rain.

Hollow, bursting.

Tender, violent.

Unable to choose

a direction,

a course,

a temperament.

It reminded me

of you.

Its feral

brokenness.

Its

sorrow.

Its silent tearing

from the

middle.

The rain.

It reminded me

of you.

The bearer

of slow blood,

the meandering

rivulet

of rage

seeping from

the deepest,

most intolerable

wound.