Poem: Dry Rain

by Barbara Adams, November 06, 2009

Dry Rain

It’s raining on the graves.
Thomas isn’t thirsty,
But if he were
He’d rather have a beer.

Sara is very dirty.
She’d love a hot shower
With herbal shampoo—
She has a permanent bad hair day.

Gail the baby girl
Is soaking wet,
Not a diaper in sight.
A shame.

God knows
None of them
Will grow
In this earth.