The rain
is dancing down
like angry temple goddesses
from forgotten ancestral attics,
decked out to see the world
on elephant tops only once a year.
-cymbals clanging-
heavy breasts and
flat feet
claiming earth
in vengeance
to extinguish pyres
burning from past
ember by ember
drop by drop
deluges of desires
answered only in her prayers.

Where should I hide you, my love,
now that the goodbyes are told
and the moist kisses have dried?
To which wind's abandon
should I let my heartstrings fly
now that you have set it free to conquer
other provinces of desire?
At least leave me with a street's name
where I can park my pain and strew my words
which streetdogs can sniff and taste and
curl in on moonless nights.