Rain in all its guises
filled my view,
a chainmail of it that
allowed nothing to get through.
I waited at that spot
for an hour
of spikes and scorching plains,
feeling my blood shuffle
from blue to red to
an indescribable black.
You didn’t come that day
and I didn’t have the courage
to leave that etched tile.
As if stepping through its borders
would drive the rain
right into my head.
Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time either writing or reading. Her works have appeared in Exercise Bowler, Blinking Cursor, Theory Train, Cartier Street Press, Berg Gasse 19, Precious Metals, A Handful of Dust, The Scarlet Sound, The Adroit Journal, Perceptions Literary Magazine, Welcome to Wherever, The Corner Club Press, Death Rattle, Danse Macabre, Subliminal Interiors, Generations Literary Journal, Super Poetry Highway, Stream Press, Stone Telling, Popshot, Golden Sparrow Literary Review, Rem Magazine, Structo, The 22 Magazine, The Black Fox Literary Magazine, Niteblade, Tuck Magazine, Ontologica, Congruent Spaces Magazine, Pipe Dream, Decades Review, Anatomy, Lowestof Chronicle, Muddy River Poetry Review, Lady Ink Magazine, White Masquerade Anthology and Perhaps I’m Wrong About the World. You can find her here: http://carabosseslibrary.blogspot.com
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