I think this as I step
out of the downpour into my body, a trough
where this yearning collects and solidifies
into something like a plea, an Eloi, Eloi stuck
in my esophagus and oh, my god, I miss the ire,
the intimate, elegant stun of you, the radiant
obscurity of light through fog, and the rainbows
scattered on our cabinets by the sun on shattered
glass.