The Dark Opens
Miriam Levine
2008
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Staying In
Miriam Levine
I kiss the rain for washing away choices.
Why rush out to listen to another writer
when I can watch the horizon disappear?
Sun, rain, day, night—
any way—
the line between ocean and sky doesn’t exist.
A white-out storm brings down birds and blows supple palms seaward.
I’ll bend too.
There’s enough wind to rip flags and knock
the yoke from my shoulders.
I’ve done enough chores to last a lifetime.
My scrubbed blouse hangs dripping from the rack,
my soaked socks slung over the rail.
An enormous palm frond floats in the flooded gutter.
I have no job except to praise.