four

i am collecting boys
like water in a bucket
dousing my garden in acid rain
because what falls from the sky
is no longer right for drinking;
i am praying to a god that does not exist
for soft eyes and a wine-soaked smile
a remembrance of another time
when we drank straight from the spring out back
because it was all we had
and we didn't know any better.
i am asking forgiveness
for my brilliant displacement
the way i've scattered my soul
in so many directions
that only clouds can bring it back
drenching me again in the
raiment of sorrow, polluted
not by oil or smoke or heavy metals;
just kindness, distant and unfair
a remembrance of another time
when we drank from the spring out back
because it was all we had
and nothing could possibly have been better.