Gacela of Mornings after Rain

Midway through summer, when crepe myrtle
blossoms are most profuse before they fall—

In the center of the house, there's no window from which
to view the torrent that unpins them before their fall.

Rain compounds its sums on the roof: brittle hail of
asterisks fragmenting at the core before their fall.

That's how we come into the world and also how we leave:
bright blush, loud cry, one last kiss before the fall.

Will you ease my coverlet, will you brush my hair
and fill my jars again with copper before I fall?

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