How Silver Seemed the Rain

Rainwater trickles into the storm sewer
Marking its course
As a small silvery stream
Under the toe of my boot.

Slate skies are unbroken
A solid, dull overcast
Appearing as dirty lace
Through branches and twigs.

My soul sags.
The wet afternoon
And I become the wash
Of skies and gutters.

What was it she said?
That sharp inflection
That penetrated my ribs
To stir the heat at my center?

The moment she jabbed
The rain stopped
The world slowed
And the bleeding began.

Keys dangling from my fingers
I didn’t think about the walk to the car.
Suddenly I was pushing the key into the lock
Thinking how silver seemed the rain.