Monday, May 21, 2012

Pitter Patter

by Jack Garcia

The sound of rain, like gunshots in the night,
lashed liquid whips against the window pane.
But all the water could not drown my fright.
Or wash her wounds.  Or cleanse her of her pain.
“I would have killed myself were you not there”
was all she had to say for me to cry,
and though my tears joined hers in wet despair
I didn’t hurt enough to want to die.
The pitter patter of the rain like feet
reminded me of tiny children, scared,
running to their mothers—a safe retreat
—to plead with watered eyes they will be spared
the cruelties of the closet monster.
I’ll never know how the rain still haunts her.


Morgan Mikel said...

Wow. That, Jack. I'm blown away. Super blown away. I can't even describe it. Really awesome!

Joaquin the Chihuahua said...

Thanks, Morgan! That means a lot to me coming from you. If only our professor had liked it...

Joaquin the Chihuahua said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Michelle said...

This is really beautiful Jack. Beautifully sad. I can relate to whoever the her is in this sonnet. This is my favorite thing of yours I've read. So beautiful.


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