REMOTE AREAS
white
withering globes of light that float above flowers, blooming. planted
seasons, seasons wilting, death, light, snow on—tree branches, leaves,
veil of—sun. weak strains
of pink light falling on—blankets of white, heaven.
WHERE THE YELLOW RAIN FALLS
There
are clouds in the sky that are violent. I have the steering wheel. Yes,
it is strange, I say. You told
me this would happen. I am talking to you. The seats are all empty. The
car drives along, under the clouds, the ones that are violent. It does
so even when I lift my foot, forgetting to set it back down. The sky is
dark. There is a burst of lightning, which
is sudden. It is cold. Up ahead is a patch of black and green. I talk
aloud, looking through the windshield. The wipers are slow to work. The
wipers get stuck. Do you think it will let up? I ask. Should I pull off?
The windows are down. There is rain. You
do not talk back. The seats are all empty. I think of where to go.
Perhaps off the cliff? I ask. The roads here, they are open. You know I
love you, I say. You know I miss you, I say. The clouds are violent.
Perhaps off the cliff? I ask.