mall dramas of rain,
like a woman’s sorrows multiplying.
remembering his hands gesturing,
like a mathematician’s in skilled divisions.
She thinks of the mouth she kissed,
the mudflat drawl, so profane, enticing.
anguish toppling, weekly,
into her handkerchief pocket.
She doesn’t garden but sits on the fierce rough steps.
In the fields, horses grazing, black and white.
From recesses, her secret love shimmers recognition.
The sofa cushion’s body language.
She keeps the part of him that loved to dance,
his langorous arms, as she casually gave her virginity.
The rain sees it all,
one flight after another striking the rock.
She wonders if, during the weather,
he still remembers.