CALL ME BELOVED

once you begin listening, again
it’s impossible to shut it out –
you’ll sit in the drivers seat
beneath flickering street lights,
the rain rolling down the corner of the windshield
in such a way that it catches the waning yellow glow
and spills it inside the car, curves of gold
roll across the seats.

the listening exhausts me.
across the dash I watch the light
splayed out through rain drops,
and something deathly significant
is buried in all of it and
I can never tell what.