Selected Poems

Rain/Anger/Angela

The storm comes across empty city lots
sending up steam, a thousand gray curls
like question marks. I think of anger 
and your gray eyes. But I could also say
I think of the gray ocean, a cat stalking,
a whip, and each would be true.
Cool and endearing as rain can be
it moves on and loves nothing.
Its hands are soothing, indifferent, and empty.
They hit red stucco and my face with equal force.
When it rains you don’t think of yourself,
of me, or anger, and I don’t want to either.
I say rain is a purifier, a cat with nine tails 
licking itself, perfect in its independence.

(published in Pegasus)