Rainy Season

by Jess Walter


We travel to Thailand, hide our faces 

behind masks of oblong leaves, dance

until the night sky buckles, bare 

feet thumping rocky soil, 

arms high above us, reaching 

for the glazed heavens, until the war 

in our chests quiets and the fire 

we invented implodes on itself 

in dramatic surrender.  After, we dig 

our toes and fingers into the ground, 

into each other, broken trees 

seeking water.  The rum-stained sunset 

is all the wealth we need.  We know this 

is foolish, but under trees stocked 

with drowsy sparrows, the decadent 

present is our elixir and we drink