Storms

by Margery Hannah

I look forward to them the way
I once wet-tongued over
cotton candy as a child.

Neon afro-sugar melting 
in my mouth, what is 
sweeter than that?

We marched in the rain
until we became it, two drops 
sinking below dirt

and resurrected with an ache
carrying us above 
nimbus fluff.

© Margery Hannah 2006. All rights reserved.
© Margery Hannah 2015. All rights reserved.

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