Two Women and the Rain

the rooks and hives have gone quiet
what appears to be the ear of God

is a small boy's palm
catching the rain

a woman begs
to be felled by this rain

the sound it makes
silence gone drumming

a cello lifts from a high up window
there's a pool before the temple

and she before the pool
weeps in her scarf and shoes

I lost my mother to a surgeon's slip
hers to the sea

smoke purls from a chimney
winter's coming—the wait for sorrow

she lost her mother to the sea
mine to a surgeon's slip

before the pool I weep
in my scarf and shoes

from the temple's high up window
a cello lifts

the sound it makes—gone silence
I beg to be felled

by this rain that soothes the boy
his small palm

mistaken for the ear of God
the rooks and hives are quiet

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Lindsay Rockwell is poet-in-residence for the Hartford Connecticut’s Episcopal Cathedral Church. She has recently published or forthcoming work in Poetry Northwest, Poet Lore, Tupelo Quarterly, Radar, SWWIM Every Day, among others. Her collection, Ghost Fires, was published by Main Street Rag, April 2023. She is the recipient of the Andrew Glaser Poetry Prize, fellowships from Vermont Studio Center, and Edith Wharton/The Mount residency.