An Explanation of the Rain                     

                We ca ke leech
                 Thank you, Lost Boys of Sudan

In those last moments,
no longer able to walk
or to swallow,
I will see the four of us

huddling and laughing
in a cold spring rain.
Dut like a tall, thin sapling
holds the umbrella

high above us all while William sings,
shining and threading each rescued
Dinka word into a sturdy wrap
that circles our shoulders brightly.

Bul then turns to explain:
“We walked many, many miles
many, many months—bush, desert
—best was rain. You see,

between us and those dead, just
one leaf to eat, just one hand of mud.
And now you see us here—a new land—
now we are not having to drink this rain!”

How your onyx skin gleamed wetly
young men of Sudan, lighting that gray sky!
When I lie waiting, face-up in final thirst
it’s this memory I’ll taste

and your laughter I’ll see, glistening,
as my body becomes the language of rain.                       

Previously published in Edge by Edge, Toadlily Press, Chappaqua, NY, 2007