Runcible Spoon

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Evaporation

 

If you're the sun, then I'm the rain.

I hit the ground without color--

your amber lifts till I'm in air again.

I dampen skin with deep dolor--

you dry me up so people grip

the earth with warm toes and never slip.

I come in waves, chaos out of spite,

dreading your broom of burn, I might

end this now, I'm only meant

for wet brood and cold sulk at night.

Complete your arc, your coy descent

and dry my tears from this cement.