Rain.

Above me, the rain falls heavy on the roof, humming a tune for my belly which aches. My insides are as dark as outside. It being midnight. No light, except a splinter of moon, springing up, with a start, sensing so much space in my ache. Falling through the sky on a droplet, of finding, searching, reliving. Frame by frame, lying flat, wan ache. Perpetually conceived.
1994
© MARCO MOONE 2008

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