look at the sky
it’s going to rain
so my teacher
taught us the -ing form

all things passing by
described
as a blue cloud
as a rainy day
as our eyes looking up

we never saw a rainbow
together

but we had sex
during a storm
wind blowing out of the window

but we chatted lying
on a soaked meadow
birds trying to speak from branch to branch

but we called each other at the phone
in a wet vernal evening
words about a rainbow we saw from our different cities

I think I know where the golden pot
myths talked about
is hidden
but I don’t care to search it

because it is somewhere now
because we are now somewhere
under a rainbow

© 2017, Mendes Biondo

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