My first poem written for the LBI Poets’ Studio.
FEELS LIKE RAIN
Casual distraction at the veranda café,
balmy afternoon jazz
and the syncopated beats
of drizzling droplets gayly leap
from the wind-frayed edge of awning tarps
and bellyflop in tinkling drains,
or is it the sun shower of my tears
through a misty rumination
of the dismal dumb smartphone
newsfeed out of focus in foggy bifocals,
rivulets tingling my fuzzy cheeks
and salty beads pinging a tin cup,
or is it blood flooding body armor,
clotting on the caustic battlefield
of a war without end,
or the final un-purified drip
in a diminutive vein
from an empty pouch lovingly hung,
resupply caravans
unknown dreaded days away,
interned at the impermeable border.