Today's poem is by Chris Glomski

Il pleut

The sentence begins the sentence began by thinking
Of rain as something it was no longer saying, sluiced

Through its syntax and from which meaning
Would be duly sifted. Summer threw its weight

On the pavement as strollers came and went at all
Hours, brisk at the corners. Night wore a wig of colored lights.

Still, the blank expressions, the debris of festival seating
Trailed like breadcrumbs through a new library

Everyone's doing research in. It's raining, someone maintains.
They'll say it for the first time if you ask them to repeat it.

Copyright © 2009 Chris Glomski All rights reserved
from The Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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