The Rains Came
The rains came and
we were kept inside;
it felt right to be
eclipsed for the first
time, to be engulfed
and you close but afraid
to accelerate in free fall
from record miles. Thunder,
lightning signaled we’d
passed the speed of sound.
After daring atmospheres we
only wanted to be alone, to
make love, swell cloud
like, and be intoxicated.
Our first was born in
the hollow of the night.
I phoned everyone I’d
met to say, “I have a
son.” Not one was angry
and the men especially
were kind and their wives
came on the line and
I apologized for the time.
When I write, I’m alone
but when I surface you
look first while I smoke;
I hate separation but you have
no idea of the amazing
terrains, the guardians I meet,
how often I stop to take
adjectives describing you
before leaving upward
in a stream.
Charles Bane, Jr. is the American author of The Chapbook ( Curbside Splendor, 2011) and Love Poems ( Kelsay Books, 2014). His work was described by the Huffington Post as “not only standing on the shoulders of giants, but shrinking them.” Creator of The Meaning Of Poetry series for The Gutenberg Project, he is a current nominee as Poet Laureate of Florida.
Cover photo: Allen Forrest http://maudlinhouse.net/allen-forrest