two days from empty.
two hours from dawn.
behind the lattice of the old guava tree,
a pregnant cloud counted her sorrows,
it had been a while since the last implosion,
the detritus had found its way back,
climbing on the coattails of an indifferent sun,
the rain she had lost filled her eager womb again,
how much longer?
with slate grey envy,
she filleted the gloating moon,
so sure in death,
so sure she would be born again,
emerging from the ghastly dark,
like the teasing glimmer
of an unfulfilled promise,
over and over.
his face etched in argentine woe,
the man stared out of his window,
two days from full,
two hours from dawn,
he heard himself crack,
this was the brink,
there would be no turning back,
there would be no other path,
he felt the night creep slowly
into his fading eyes,
a cloud had moved
to cover the smile
of the relentless moon.