Abolishing the waves of shrill voices,
exciting the rooftops,
changing the colors of the city to silver.
Streetlights shattering rain,
as blackbirds complain away;
the leaves have become tired with it.
Hearing the storm through me
I remember the girl next door
as I close my eyes:
Her pale cheeks rose-bright with rain,
and I shudder.
Silver rain disappears into the forest.
They beat us with silver nails, knocked us down.
“There are ghosts who sing furies," she said.
Voices in choir send thunder through me.
Each cries a secret.
I run to reach her, and drown.