Rainy
If I could be the torrent in the rain storm,
I’d wash all sorrow from your body with magic soap
thunder about injustice and then
love you
— Douglas Gilbert
Rainy
If I could be the torrent in the rain storm,
I’d wash all sorrow from your body with magic soap
thunder about injustice and then
love you
— Douglas Gilbert
Lachrymose (Draft 1)
Hurrying away from a shiver
she made me feel so cold in insults,
frigid when I rested morose in a sulk
Lying on ice is a chilly bump.
I’m warm when I’m walking
though a storm is stalking, but if
I rest a moment I’ll be cold
Lachrymose skies hover
since you threw me out cold
without my umbrella or razor
A storm is stalking me in your name;
I have no umbrella for shame, no
it’s a shame you never knew me
never knew how poor I was
how rich
I gave you all the grandiose you wanted:
the sunrise, the sunset, the expensive flowers
but you could not embrace a pauper who
might write a frozen poem to be
intentionally defrosted and served
growing lachrymal joy and flowers afield
— Douglas Gilbert