island in rain | Sojourners

island in rain

rain came
for s' many nights
it began to hurt
cuttin our lives
like bits of glass
in a black alley
on a wet street
bleedin all over
an grade-a
an zolie
an me
the steady storm
lookin close
for signs
of an end
to it
to night
an we heard
'ain't no sense
hangin here
cold done a
hold a him'
grade-a said
an we
walked away
leavin murphy
face down
an soaked
lookin like an
island in rain

Astor Simpson was a mountain poet and writer who was raised in Detroit and lived in Kentucky at the time this poem appeared.

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