Rain scatters like a spilled bag of seed over the walk.
Everyone walks like an old woman under it
holding their hands out for alms,
holding their necks in for secret comforts.
A terrible creature crouches in my belly
baying its shame. I will drown it
in the sheeting rain.
Later, when the rain has made the air
Perfectly clear and still,
I will stand between two banks of burning cloud,
I will drop like a pin
Into the burnished waters.