I am the rain...

I am the rain which will open everything
will open everything with its penetrating fingers
and then will go away leaving behind these boxes
with ajar lids fluttering
helplessly in the lingering flood of dusk
those birds butterflies and leaves; stones and bodies; those
windows and footpaths leading inside
to the softest softness and humidity to
tears. I rain don’t want to know about it. I hide
myself before the day in the dark and grass and from there
I watch how everything that was opened is dying
slowly getting slack and soaking in the light
red becomes green and then
nothing more. The sun triumphs again and I
cover my head with grass

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