-- dizzy from the silence
     as the rain translates
     the sky's pain into the core
     of a leaf's inflorescence,
     tucks underneath a stone's
     tongue a secret, springing
    from a cornucopia of questions.
    if it rains more over
    the tormented town,
    will God show its face
    in the puddle out feet trample?
    will an angel collapse
    as a single drop of honey
    moves through the lambast
    of a monsoon's arm
    in the wayward atmosphere?
    will its death grow wings
    and carry all of us,
    girdled to its chest
    like how the infantile morning
    is painted in the quiet
    mausoleum of our pains,
    and into our tender lives
    waiting to be examined?