April 1, 1999

In the Torrent

The rain beat
down
in that night.
He had stripped
his shirt as the
heat burned on
his skin.
The fever boiled
underneath.
He grew wet.
He grew tired.
The fever raged.
And he
screamed to the wind.
To the rain.
To the full moon
blanketed
under
clouds.
To truth.
To the window.
To soul-eyes.
To fire, fever,
madness.
To truth. He
screamed.