ΝΤ. Χ. ΛΩΡΕΝΣ!

D. H. LAWRENCE

THERE IS RAIN IN ME

There is rain in me

running down, running down, trickling

away from memory.

There is ocean in me

swaying, swaying O, so deep

so fathomlessly black

and spurting suddenly up, snow-white, like snow leopards

rearing

high and clawing with rage at the cliffs of the soul

then disappearing back with a hiss

of eternal salt rage; angry is old ocean within a man.