Recognition of Urgencies
Thomas Leonard Shaw
The rainstorm a ghost
in the vanishing horizon, engulfing
all that stand in its path
with an obnoxious darkness ignorant
to the lamplights, the streetlights
all light that stand in its way.
When you ask me to find a candle
in the downstairs drawer, I will
obey regardless of the futility of illumination.
Later when we huddle in the corner
of our bedroom, I will hesitate
to bring up the issue
because the last thing we need
in this storm is a fight. You and I
will instead stretch out our arms
demanding our own moment of consumption
towards each other, within each other
as reprieve, as understanding.
Tomorrow we will pick up what has fallen
outside of our home. You will linger by the door
while I learn to scavenge between the uprooted trees.