(Poems) – wet shoes

you can pick up your shoes

between two fingers: a peace sign

and follow me under the awning 

where we watch the driveway flood

and we don’t complain when the wind blows

the rain into our faces.

it deserves it. it did so well.


our lungs make room for the rain

and glow like saints:

hidden halos, hollowed hearts.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” I ask,

and I breathe you in,

divine smoke and candle wax,

insomnia and petrichor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s