22 I heard the sound of raining in your voice, When silence was a hyphen linking days. And days were dry and loneliness was moist, When you brought water washing off your trace. I saw my every sprout return to seeds, When all your seeds were hiding in the soil. And soil put on its biting widow-weeds, When silence dried away your raining voice. I smelled, I touched, I tasted every drop Of thirsty words you hyphened for the rain. And rain still sounds within my earthy clots, When loneliness is hiding in my veins.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems