robert dickerson - Sicilian Shower

Ionia vanishes.
daunting no bird
the thick drops fall
sparsely from mountain-gutted cloud
plick
plock. pluck
to hot stone
some gone
before they hit the ground.
shush-hush
sigh the grateful palms
through one blue rift
the sun inserts his lever
green fate
no sweat
from the balustrade
leisurely the women
gather in the clothes.

robert dickerson

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