From the Greenhouse

Summer rains like my blood cries
lover my lover
over and over surging receding sometimes
a brief sun knifing through
rain like my blood speaks
in alternate whispers
roaring giving and taking seeking destroying
beseeching green sprouts
in our struggling garden
blessing the earth as it suffers
blind rain beating down
tender sprouts
in the silent mud.

My blood yells against
your sleeping shoulder
this is a poem of summer
my blood screams at your false safety
your mute body beside me
driving me closer and closer
you seek your own refuge
farther and farther away
in your dreaming
the edge of our bed is approaching
again
rain surges against our windows
green sprouts are drowning
in mud and blessings
in our carefully planted greenhouse
I have moved as far as I can
now my blood merges
into your dreaming.