And It Won’t Rain AnymoreSummer you were. As you came in the room
with you came in the sea, seaweeds and rocks:
and the sun came in and through the olive trees
came the cicadas, and the countryside
of an August night stars in the sky
and quivering of crickets.
Scarlet August moon, a full moon you were
inside the room: and you ran within me
laughing in my veins, deep within my blood.
You were, my love, the light, the air,
the scent of earth, the colors, the flowers
of the summer.
Summer you were. And like a mellowed fig
you melted in my mouth, sugar and love:
you let me nibble grape after grape on you
like on a juicy bunch.
And I lit up like a sarmentum:
and burned before your eyes.
All I have left of you now is a dream
of the first unfathomable dawn:
and I am hanging like a withered leaf
upon a bough, a patch of thirsty sod