It's not going well
Barbara Brooks

The rain
comes down,
separating us
like two
people adrift
in the
ocean.  I
raise my
face to
the downpour
hoping it
will wash
you from 
my mind.
I spit 
out the 
sea and
rinse you
from my
mouth with
rain.  I
close my 
eyes against
the pellets 
of rain
hoping that
when I 
open them
again, you
will be 
gone.