endless nights of rain

 

.

So it rains, 
and time, that hourly girl, 
tilts up her mold, 
filling with mercury.

While you sit 
examining your hands 
as though water 
could change the world.

That’s right, 
it’s the pure, brief space 
that is yours: 
nothing fills it. 


—Mary Ruefle
in The Adamant

.