18/30: COMO SIEMPRE
by Zachary Caballero
did I stop
paying attention to gravity
Did anyone see
in my chest melt
Early this morning
when a parade of little humans
read poems in the post-storm air
my body collapse, releasing joy like
a small door
know if love
ever has an accurate weather report
is it the opposite of humidity?
is it this scene in front of me?