Lynn Powers  © 2006 All Rights Reserved

Rain Dance

An old Yaqui took me
to the desert,
got out of the pickup,
stood awhile
under the blank sky
smoking a cigarette.
Then said,
Letís get a bite to eat.
During dinner he explained:
To ask for rain
is to concede the point.
You have to imagine
mist on your face,
the smell of wet adobe,
your feet in red mud.
Driving home
I decide to give it a shot,
picture your fingertips
sliding the satin strap
off my shoulder,
your damp tongue
grazing my lips.
My spine releases, an
almost audible click
as I feel your teeth
at my throat, stunning
my breasts. And
as I turn
into the driveway,
the first fat drops.

Ellen Bass
Copyright © 2006


ELLEN BASSíS most recent book of poetry, Mules of Love (BOA 2002), won the Lambda Literary Award. Among her other awards are the Pablo Neruda Prize, the Larry Levis Prize, and a Pushcart Prize. This poem is from her new book, The Human Line, which will be published by Copper Canyon Press in 2007.

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