The Rain, The Movie, The Promise
Love is a bad word. It leaves
a lavender blue stain
on the madness of umbrellas
below a portico.
I keep last night’s residue on my lips
while I hold my hand in the air
until a taxi splashes the nearby curb.
Where do they come from?
The rain drenched scenes kissing each other
and how those actors ease into intimacy
the way foam drools across sand.
While the rest of you are watching,
I worship my imagination,
the self-evident stars floating
from spine to crotch. And then
I leave the theatre, the moon
providing false light, exposing my shadow
on this walk away from the city.
Sadness is the elevator
I take to the top floor.
Hospitals, mirrors, bars, no soliloquy.
I’ll have to say it eventually.
I unlock my front door
just to keep it unlocked.
Brian Chander Wiora is an Indian-American poet from Dallas, Texas. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The McNeese Review, The Florida Review, Gulf Stream Magazine, and other places. He graduated with an MFA in Poetry from Columbia University in 2020, where he received the Creative Writing Teaching Fellowship.