The stars tilt in the no-moon sky,
Becoming pupils to the watery eyes dripping
Down the pane of my window.
Cloudless rain flings itself towards the light,
The safety of my indoors.
I shy away from the wail of the drops--
Their misery somehow arouses guilt
From the spaces between ribs.
The slap-sting of their terror on glass
Forces hands to ears
To prevent the sound from becoming
A memory.
"Pointless,"
The wind screams, gnashing branches.
My own droplets leak from my shame,
Salty and safe as they warm to my skin,
Offering their sympathy.
But their brethren are still dying.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
The stars tilt in the no-moon sky,
Becoming pupils to the watery eyes dripping
Down the pane of my window.
Cloudless rain flings itself towards the light,
The safety of my indoors.
I shy away from the wail of the drops--
Their misery somehow arouses guilt
From the spaces between ribs.
The slap-sting of their terror on glass
Forces hands to ears
To prevent the sound from becoming
A memory.
"Pointless,"
The wind screams, gnashing branches.
My own droplets leak from my shame,
Salty and safe as they warm to my skin,
Offering their sympathy.
But their brethren are still dying.