It was the silent patter of falling tears overwhelmed
by the crashing of dangerous thunderthoughts.
There was no storm’s eye for refuge from the holocaust
of frozen dulled-over eyes and starved hearts.
The bird began to shake in the deluge and caught Zues’ attention,
so he scratched her back as he cuddled her beside him until
Sleep’s death overtook them both in the silence
of pounding hearts.
In the morning, when the rain-streaked window pane
cut ribs from sunlight’s entrance, and sent the
Broken joy in prison shadows upon her face,
She woke crying.
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