I try to
loose the knot
tied to the dark

canvas of sky’s skin.
I confide to the rain
my wet lies of

noose,
trigger,
falling gun
taught against each bat
that swings and flutters.

what can I do but stand in the rain
and feel the hail melt in my hand?

I am of little
faith no longer than
a fingernail and proof
of OG goodness
this night of

re- and un-
tying ribbons