they turned brown before you arrived
by the time you came on them
swiped the dust off turned the pages
they were crumbling you never looked
at the rest surrendering them to silence
you could lie down again now
there was nothing between you now
the rain was beginning outside
or was it just the ending
the wind was sounding like
some one moving heavy furniture
the distinct sound of the oak drawers
of your childhood that bureau
with the oval mirror
you remember the pictures she
showed you the ones with the blue
light the jagged clouds the mountains
this was a tuesday this a friday afternoon
here is your daughter Alma
and this and this rain pinging the roof
the wind is now a moan chant hum
listen to the rain mama
on the red tin roof
feel it breathe out release stop
until it almost never was
and was always this silent
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