formed until born,
spat out in shapes specifically and
caught
on hair coats gloves concrete so quickly melting:
this sleet, fleet
impermanence
I woke up wet-skinned.
Unclarifying, merely muddling,
puddling,
I'm weather that never
ends, only pauses
like the whine of a newborn.
Sickly, almost sticky,
and pairing with wind to ram skins,
I am slick
and slippery, can be
insidious, residual. I
change all into fuzz and rust.
Eye-catching shine,
and those black wings I've snapped
broken. I'll wait
'til you think I've left. You forget
and go out without your boots on,
foregone, and
I'm not gone at all!
I make raincoats gain a hazy glaze
like snails;
I leave sidewalks undrained,
beating down
(downbeat).
And the buildings drip like sides of meat.