It Rains When You Leave
by Zachary Caballero
it rains when you leave
the sky’s only way of offering farewell
I suppose, but did you know
my skin precipitates too?
I cannot pretend
I see you
and the sea-level
inside me sings skyward
I say your name
only to sink back through you
You smile, and I swim.
We kiss, and I am brought back
to surface. Say, I don’t know if you
know this but blood is said to be blue in the body
but it is simply a myth. Like Icarus craving sunlight
and falling asleep in the sea instead but
the body is still seventy-percent water,
three-fourths of me is a storm so calm
I crave a sky to share it with.
My blood may not be blue in the body
but my body belongs to the blues.
All of me, what little room for improvement there is,
I woulda saved for you.
See, you left a breath on my neck
and all water leapt out, my skin
became a smacktalk of steam singing
I poured the last of what’s left
remnants of a flash flood
float into your bed,
a puddle of laughs,
one thousand blue threads.