Three long days of
soft, steady showers and still
the well of my sorrow has yet to reach capacity.
The sky becomes a hungry mouth and
digests me whole.

On the windshield,
half arcs of streaky rainbows
end in mid air and remind me I’m going
nowhere fast.

And dead leaves -- so,
so beautiful! Oh, to pluck
myself from tree of life, interminable,
and twirl free, falling, ever falling
without feeling.

There may be a
heavy price to pay for my proven
inability to swallow what has been
and there’s no time to wallow in
what will be.

Plump, plump as a
Thanksgiving turkey, I stare open-mouthed
into giblet gravy sky, drowning in November
rain, head on the chopping block,
blissfully unaware.