Interview #03

What did you mean
when you said we all
are sometimes born
in rainstorms?

His vowels sound like white wind blowing through empty bottles,
it’s so harsh, in the light of every missed day.

Drenched in the sour wet of public school, we found
each other for want of magic. We learned spells

and played body games. We walked in silence and fucked
with our shirts still on. I’m glad that the rain came when

it did. It left me clinging to him, it left me so alone. The
sky was blood scabbed black and my skin was hurting.

Heavy land under heavy sky with willows in our chests;
I never thought God could be so loud.

I put my head in his lap and he played
with my hair until he forgot my name.

Jacob Fowler

Jacob Fowler is an elementary school teacher living in Oakland, CA. He recently graduated Pitzer College with a BA in English and Psychology. His poetry has appeared in Barren Magazine, Ghost City Review, Riggwelter Press, and The Otherside Magazine. You can find him on Twitter at @jacobafowler.

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