it's a drought you know
that consumes more than flash floods
the tense winds of whips and quips
that fly along barren 'scapes
it's the lack, the without, the beginning
of an end that you see
from the start
a precipice that you shy from at every breath
it's a love you know
that carries waters
like leaves on trees wind-swept and torn by time
it is the failing light and the sun that disappears behind the clouds
it's time, an imperceptible movement of seconds, moments
with no signifier, no reference point
to hold sway against the passage of beat upon beat
of your heart
it's a drought when water does not quench
words do not abate the barren days
nor reach the stone in your chest
that sits like a wayward symbol of disdain
the flood is the moment revealed, you know,
when the street lights illuminate only
the ground below, looking up does not blind,
nor burn, nor starve for want of water.
