Rain beading the glass all night,
speaks in cryptograms as we do
to each other, each other’s cyphers,
our whole lives leading to this puzzle,
as still as the storm buffeting the coast,
as sure as star maps knowing the stars
shine somewhere, but not here.
🩷🩷🩷
I want to trace the rain, palms open,
let it read our long lines and tell us
our fortune instead, possible as it may
or may not have been, while we dance
as cranes on the wet deck, careless,
my footprint pressing into yours, filling,
pressing again, our chest-beats in concert.
🩷🩷🩷
Sam Calhoun is the author of four chapbooks, the most recent
Perturbations (Alien Buddha Press) and co-author of a collaborative
collection, The Hemlock Poems (Present Tense Media). His work can be
found in numerous journals, including Cosmic Daffodils, Eratos, and
the local NPR station’s The Sundial Writers Corner. He lives with his
wife in Elkmont, AL. Follow him on Instagram or X @weatherman_sam, or
his website, www.weathermansam.com
This is beautiful!