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Climbing Trees Reflected in Puddles

 there’s a hole in the rain

                           through it you can see your birth

                   it’s blank    I’m walking with

                           an itch on my shoulder

                         with a walking stick

                 birds carry your arrival      string it

               over the trees                 plague years

do you know how many times I’ve heard you

times I covered myself           are the birds

       hung like ornaments      still      covered

          with you         clamped down on a branch

                          lights in trees line the path    your birth

           sudden soak that rains from plague years your cover

                               over the house black clouds deliquesce

                            never got the order right      it’s blank 

                        my coverage of you contained in you  blank

                          I’m sitting with breathing with you

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