all the street signs on the walk home
were toppled. the windowsill plants
had become yellow
in the leaf, as did
the sky. heart, why are you so
skylit right now? who cut the
panel of glass into your cieling?
what is the lightning that strikes you?
can it be stopped? it rains. they remove
their shoes. because it feels perfect,
they weep in the rain. so rain
is the gentle, silver hand that milks
the heart, that reaches through the
window, breaks the glass for cream.