because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

Rainbows have no place in poems

Some days it is harder to love you
than others. Easter is over and done,
blossoms of bright azalea and snow-
white dogwood popping out around corners
like promises, but there are still so many crosses.
Afternoon thunderstorms rinse away
pollencoats under slaten sunlight, and you
point to the sky. Rainbows have no place in poems,
I think, wondering if happy endings are things
of myth, what secrets you still keep
as we lay beat to beat at day’s dying. My arms,
aching and taxed, reach with hesitance
in the darkness. I sleep drugged, dreaming
of escape routes, of a heart not so leaden to bear.

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4 responses

  1. BEAUTIFUL!!!!

    April 24, 2015 at 11:18 am

  2. lovely, the dreaded leaden heart we all bear – wonderful!

    April 24, 2015 at 11:31 am

  3. Such gorgeous and tragic heaviness! Loved it.

    April 24, 2015 at 1:58 pm

  4. I enjoyed the imagery of “Afternoon thunderstorms wash away pollencoats under slaten sunlight”.

    April 30, 2015 at 11:42 am

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