poet Nicole M. Martin

Nicole M. Martin

Rainy Day

The apartment building across
The street is a different color
When it rains
You wear a hood over your hair
And it could be any color
I wouldn’t know
The wind whistles, so funereal
I hear your voice

I turn on all the lights
Why must I fight darkness
In the middle of the day?
I am mud dredged up
From the grey bay

I want to drink vodka
Like the Russians do
But this is America
And a Monday

I am full to the brim
With desire also known as
Hunger, longing, want
The glass can never be
Half empty

Poem Submitted: Monday, October 26, 2009

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