October 10

October 10, 2015
by C
comments 8
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Waking to obvious rain. Like bright
-hued children the construction men

wait, dwarfed by and dampened at
the site’s abyss. Something might

be wrong, now, they collect
and gather, staring down. Conjecture:

a short but unknowable distance.
A gull’s nervous warble, unseen.

The stillness of the ginkgo tree.
No wind. Someday it will grow

to shade this view, to blatantly
obscure, not by illusory degrees—

I know what is unknowable,
sometimes. All this slanting rain.

A worker picks at a clogged drain
as it floods, so the water keeps running on.

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