Walking Home
by Joey Clutario
And since when
has it started to rain like this?
Was it only yesterday
that summer had flown away?
It’s as if every drop,
every single drop that kisses
the soaked ground
points to you. No. You’re not the rain.
But a silence─that
drains and drowns, confuses, and consumes
the morning light
as dimmer the midnight light posts grew
and I’m terrified.
I have seen
the rain.
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