a streaky river (for my face)

every tear
is wept
in black

and tears
there are
so many

cried dry

there is an absence
here
of water

day
is night
the night
is day
running red
in anger

stand
and watch

that is all
that we can bring
ourselves
to do

for the sky
is raining fire
and the earth
beneath our feet
has sacrificed
all that it had
in vapour

green

there is no green

no more
only this dust
that was
a forest

was it
yesterday

was it just
yesterday

I suppose
there must be rain
somewhere
perhaps
it falls
in plenty

I could pray
and
I would pray
for a wind
to blow it closer

but the only wind
like
the only prayer
is just a fan
to build
more fire

I shed
another streaky tear
a dry river

and I let it mark
my face

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