The
crippling sound of the rain falling on the leaves of the garden,
holes
of green ripping through the darkness of the night that's
coming,
rippling
seams beating faster and faster down on the porch like wings,
the
weight of my own soul like ten souls trapped inside this human body,
all
the emptiness, the worthlessness of Hemingway's last penny by the pool,
blood
droplets raining inward, dark spirals in the cage that is the universe,
black
horizon curving, drifting through the air like ghosts without life,
the
sight of you with your husband having dinner while I float up against
the
ceiling.