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An entire tree,
trunk, roots, branches,
and what few leaves remained
fell into our front yard out of nowhere,
crashing into the giant cage
with 64 little winged creatures from Africa
who that night were shivering
in their little homes.
The melange
broke eight eggs in incubation
and killed one female lovebird.
They mate for life, you know
and I know it won’t be long
before her bereaved husband
kills himself out of loneliness

You
were the first person I called
when the power went out.

I’ve scoured my closet and taken
the silk and leather sashes off my dresses
to tie the shutters of my windows with them
to protect from the beating of the storm.

But the rain is here under this roof.
I lay my head
upon the unwelcoming pillows of confusion
speaking in tongues
with forbidden hope and mocking inadequacy
blatantly ignoring interruptions.

The future scares me.
Life overwhelms me to the point
that I want to stop the bus and please get off.
I want to extract my heart with a pair of scissors
and smile with relief at its echoes

but I hesitate
what if
you could love me

—?
.

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“Touching the Rain” by photographer Abbas Arabzadeh
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