February 25: Linda Nemec Foster, "The Shape of Rain"

I am at the end of a very long day.  Eight hours in the medical office.  Another five hours at the university.  I have taught my film class, written two hand-outs for my poetry class, and typed up two blog posts.  I would say that's a pretty productive day.

I'm pretty beat.  I sort of feel like I've just lived through the ending of 2001:  A Space Odyssey.  Lots of color and light and music.  I'm not really sure what it all means, but I survived.  Tomorrow night, I get to talk about poetry for three hours.  That's my reward.  I can't wait.

I have another Linda Nemec Foster poem for you.  It's beautiful and heartbreaking.

Which sort of describes most of Saint Marty's day.

The Shape of Rain

by:  Linda Nemec Foster

The shape of rain has nothing
to do with the shape of clouds,
those faces we imagine in the sky.

The shape of rain has everything
to do with the shape of our hands;
but we forget the rumor of this.

The shape of rain is not the opaque
veil of life.  Not the dancer's robe
in a fairy tale on the verge of being spoken.

The shape of rain is the wide, clear
curve of suicide.  Bright and empty
concave of silence.  No echo of regret.

The shape of rain looks straight down,
the long leap that sifts through miles
of dead air to reach the glory of pavement.

Where's Gene Kelly?