When the Rain Speaks
By Marianne Yenouskas
yellow
as cigarette-stained hands
I thought of
the way old curtains hang
lonely and forgotten
when I saw yousmall as a single
grain of rice
your eyes met mine
and flew away
two birds racing
into the trees
as cigarette-stained hands
I thought of
the way old curtains hang
lonely and forgotten
when I saw yousmall as a single
grain of rice
your eyes met mine
and flew away
two birds racing
into the trees
when you cried
from your hospital bed
for me to leave
as soon as I had entered the room
my breast bone cracked
the way daybreak does
across a quiet dawn sky
you didn’t want me
to see you that way
stitched and tied
a rabbit hung
and strung
in a butcher’s window
you wanted me
to remember you
graceful and brilliant
as moonlight patterns
across a pond
rain kissed the windows
telling me
you were leaving
and from your
mouth I saw only
the blood of the moon
heard only
the whisper of tulips in spring
and felt
only my heart
a cold river stone
Marianne Yenouskas has been writing poetry since the age of 14. Inspired by Sylvia Plath as a youth, and Pablo Neruda in her adult years, her writing style is both mercurial and yet predictable in that, in one way or another, it gives voice to the soul. Marianne is an alumna of Smith College and an Ada Comstock Scholar. A student of life, she resides on the Gulf Coast of Florida where she is the mom to one human and one fur baby.