AND STILL THE RAIN FALLS

between you
And me

the wall
of your death

descends
with an audible clang

cutting us off
each from the other

I can still see you
clearly

I throw myself
against this barrier

the glass laughing
as I

slither cartoonishly
down its impossibility

behind it
your past exists

all neatly packaged
contained and counted.

Your future has been
cancelled.

Your present no longer
to be seen.

I throw myself at this
unacceptable thing

enraged as rain
filling up an empty

tin cup in a Parisian
backstreet.

You reach out your hand
to touch me

comfort me

but I am not able to be
comforted

the glass mocks me


and still the rain
falls