Title: The Smell that Follows Rain

[intra_linear]

There is no word for the resigned silence
The smell that follows rain, lingering, curling into itself
As steam rises from black tar
The humidity that weighs down the skin, presses into the earth
I thought maybe that words would ease you out of me
Erase words from the past and write over them
But it’s winter now
The smell in the air is the sharp anticipation of snow
The killing heat is long gone but still I find myself at your door.
You’ve hooked yourself into me;
I don’t know what would hurt more, ripping out the cords or letting them burn their mark into my skin.
Sorry, that it takes me longer to make my way down that winding path
The will to turn from you, walk straight-backed away is hard to come.
And the winding path brings me to face you again
Leave me alone.
Even in snapping winter, all white and grey and black I can feel it
The taste of saffron heat, the burnt and dried colors
The weight or air’s own breath
And in it is the stillness of the chest that was heaving
The lips that parted
The eyes that closed
For love and sex
And for hurt and confusion
And even now I can feel it
The smell that follows rain.