Even the grass can
collect rain, you might think.
Who could be
so bereft of place
that not even the sky
was theirs?
But no.
Not a well.
Not even a jar.
Broken pots and broken heads
spill drops alike.
Who in the world are you
when not
even God's rain is yours?
Even the grass can collect rain.
You might think the grass
is over you.
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