Death walks in the rain

She’s a child when it rains, 

longs to be soaked to the skin, 

pummeled by raindrops and wind, 

craves something as elemental 

as she.  She gets enough of earth 

and fire on the job. Enjoys whatever 

wet comes around, that transparent 

moisture, that cool deluge 

of something besides herself, that 

release she offers everyone else.  

She’ll throw on a t-shirt, 

go barefoot into the street.

Douglas K Currier holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of Pittsburgh and writes poetry in English and Spanish. He has published in several journals: The Café Review, Main Street Rag, The Comstock Review, and others, as well as in the anthologies: Onion River: Six Vermont Poets, Getting Old, Welcome to the Neighborhood, and Poemas Zafados in North and South America. He lives with his wife in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.