Memorizing Rain
by KB Ballentine
Fog ghosts edges the yard, house silent
save the rain. Banished, you return on gray days
to flirt around memories of a life I used to know.
Tomorrow fades, today a pale shade of yesterday.
Sometimes the truth is too much – like a blue heron
on a blue lake, an excruciating blue sky above.
Emily had it right – truth must dazzle gradually.
Monarchs and mourning cloaks flicker the butterfly bush,
wings trembling in the dew.
Black walnuts drop through leaves,
a rustle and thud scattering the squirrels, my thoughts.
Stepping into the drizzle, I remember waiting
for your phone call to end, for you to welcome me
as I sat in another rain. How you beckoned me inside,
and your eyes told me what our bodies refused.
My body burns from that final time,
embarrassed – still wanting you.
Lichen-dappled bark looms beyond the porch
in the mist, bells echo the hour –
this last day of summer dissolving into night.
Gyroscope Review 6!