Megan Coxe has just returned to Texas from a sabbatical year in Almeria, Spain as an assistant English teacher to be plunged back into American life. She now splits her time pursuing an MA in Hispanic Literature at the University of Texas, coping with the unexpected return to her birthplace, and plotting her next international escape. Her work is forthcoming at Yes, Poetry and Leaf Garden Press.
Tears
By Megan Coxe
By Megan Coxe
The rain drops mournfully
sobbing outside my single-paned window
invading my head like an unrelenting army
or mocking my own sadness,
already too much for the clouds to contain
dripping out of my eye glands, making
such a soggy mess of my old cotton t-shirt
and blurring the inked words in my notebook.
The rain demands that I join its drops
falling with impatience to the ground, muddy
racing, careening as they spread urgently
into a thousand rivulets pulled into the vast sea,
infinitely filling.
A single salted tear smacks the varnished sill,
I watch as it rolls, an aqueous tumbleweed,
to the metal bar of its prison and open the vault
ushering it out to join its brethren with my breath.
My single bubble of sadness now lost,
midst the millions more like me, letting the rain
overwhelm my insignificant salty drop,
I know, the next time I face the infinite might of the sea,
I will smile, cup my hands together
and drink it.
I want my tear back.
Beautiful, thank you.