Tombs in the rain
darkness is over there.
Rain, touches my face, soaks my hair
Noise in the phone
coming from outer space.
Home is far and close.
Home is as big as a world,
as small as a slate table and a cup on top.
as big as the air that fills the cup
but is never captured, never the same
as small as the drop of water leaked through tap
and caught by my hands, then disappeared.
The same water touched the nose of the sphinx
and the bottom of the ocean.
The same water escaped from a cloud above 39°28, 115°24,
and tip of a southern flower.