Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2016  Vol. 15 No. 1
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an online journal of literature and the arts
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back ROBERT KRUT

River Side, Rain Side, Fire Side

A flare when you cough words, a disappearing act when you dance.
This rainstorm is from no cloud—the sun’s exploded and sprays boiling water.
Yes, I am talking about you.
You whispered a secret into my ear, and I spoke a piece of paper.
I have built a tower designed to reverse lightning back to the sky.
Your eyelashes pull toward the moon.
Night’s white pearl drowns the flames from your fingertips.
Danger isn’t a bomb, danger is a drip.
I will build a thousand bridges, if that’s what it takes.
The river is a tongue, and the tongue is of a holy beast.
Open, open your eyes, even if they have no iris.
Your hand in my hand, your mouth in my ear.
The rain won’t stop, and it won’t stop burning.  


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