Not for want of rain, no
not why I give you my pain
expecting this immolation
to gain a self- in other words
mine and not yours
I wouldn't even want that,
the declarative words chanted
as my funeral pyre is pushed
into the current of any river
but especially the river of life
no, not me, I am not that
antique wife
Dear sir, if you are blessed
with luck and if time is your
friend, when seconds count
and especially at the end
no one will hear my charges
against you or wonder
at my pointed burning finger
as fire is overcome by water
and all is right again