In the sky, it’s raining backwards,
always backwards. From where we stand,
it is a nightmare—our tears are the sprinkler system
of heaven. The clouds grow lush and green.
They tantalize beyond our ability
to desire. We stand, poor,
with sand in our shoes, and
dust in our mouths, holding buckets
upside down to catch the rain.
© 2019, Rachel Landrum Crumble