every time it rains
the sky is pouring one out for the homies
all the dead gods
not the greek ones or whatever
the ones so old
no one remembers their names
and on the hard days
the sky cranks up the boom box
extra loud
the favorite songs
to crash and crack
open
the clouds
tenderness is a bludgeon
gentleness is the hammer
cracking open the geode
every soft gaze is a blow
again, please
aren't you aware?
just the inch of your hand
that contains your fingerprint
splits rock
revealing gems long buried
releasing water
summoning heat
your laugh --
already it has left
spider line splinters
all over my surface
don't stop now
ever since I was a little girl
I never liked the way I looked
in my grandmother's mirror
no matter what the angle
unflattered and unfettered
me
I could never meet her gaze
until today
the first visit just
grandmother and I
after grandfather's passing
we make eye contact
reflection & I, we
hold steady the gaze
we are different people
now
reflection & I, we
hold the hands of ache and age
not the other way
around
and the mirror speaks it
back and forth
a woman who meets her own gaze
a woman who meets the gaze of life
