The whole drive home it split the swart-browed sky
like the forked veins of my forehead –
root rents, rhizomes
and associations. Clouds of musings
now – why I’m reminded of rains
I wished would come
flashes of brilliance in a blue distance.
Late that afternoon we’d released
almost spookily towards a rainbow.
Someone said it was Lady.
A nephew asked me
for which I had no responses. Can we
see rainbows up close? Is there life
after death? How
they rise and where and when they might touch down?
I thought of a boy happening
upon one in
a half-deflated, wrinkled mass trailing
a lavender ribbon. Were they
up there? I asked
on the drive. Were they dodging the crackling
of the atmosphere, or had they
flowering like the human idea,
which flashes even as one steers
between the lines