Rai—

“It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: ‘After a heavy rainfall, poems titled ‘Rain’ pour in from across the nation.”

-Sylvia Plath

I wish that today was a day that I could sit

with my window open to the weather

and all I’d feel inspired to write about was the rain

But here I am writing the same phrase

in the same stanza

hoping I could coax you into change

Come on darling, fight back

from the demon that clutches to you

a mother to her dying newborn

desperate, angry at the unjust world

I am your unjust world

every turn I make every step I take

a vendetta to you

you plead for my attention

by putting this apartment on fire

burn burn burn up like I am

you cry out

I check for your car like you are my mother

a little bit of peace a little space to breath

it’s the same song

I’ve forgotten what music was supposed to feel like

when your love screams and bleeds

unsatisfied, vengeful, distraught

I’m trying so very hard to be gentle

I know that life is too much at times

and you’re just trying your best

that’s what she would say

But still,

I wish that I could write about the rain