By Ryan Quinn Flanagan
THE RAIN WAS LAUGHING SIDEWAYS(2)
Looking down into the box,
back on everything,
back through
that wonderful maze
of things.
And it seems
that the rain was laughing
sideways.
Pernicious alligators
climbing up out of
New York bathrooms.
Though I have never been
the way of that buxom bridge.
Not once across the fancied millennia.
It's more of a faraway thing.
The teeming thunderous clap.
An inner drive
to ceremonial drums,
can you see it?
Back through
through the alluvial plain
with a walking stick
of hungry crows.
To stand over dirty shave water
with that new face.
To smile
like a king
of many well-kissed
things.
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Borderless Journal, GloMag, Red Fez, and Lothlorien Poetry Journal.
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