one year with no umbrella

one year with no umbrella meant

wet

cold sadness smearing the frames

of my arms rolling 

down the window of my chest

“i know that you can see through me, you

all” 

i thought i was stained glass wrought

animate by ironic misfired gift

i thought of choking hands i thought

of kissing car windows 

i dreamt and could not keep

from dreaming,

there, that is where he was beat 

with the fishing-pole

sleep was cruel and so too was

his wake

and every bit to do with

being awake

snakes don’t like the rain

they say 

they were cast out of my homeland

they met the ocean 

became kelp