The ground swells with the storm,
penetrates to granite rock
leaking rivulets in predictable places
and I want more to flood memory
of the dry years, smooth their track
chiseled in the walls of my skull, yet
outside myself: a perfect miracle
as the earth takes slow swallows first.
I am this place despite my selfishness,
my impatience and vengeful desire
to forever purge this drought
as my flesh comes slowly back to life.