epidemic melancholy

She called in sad to work today.

His hands itch with music he’s not making.

I stumble over a name.

It’s the weather that’s to blame

For this epidemic melancholy:

Gloomy, messy warmth,

Broken vow of autumn,

Damned rain hissing old secrets into our ears.

You hear that?

Underneath that meek hypnotic drone

It taps,

Begging entry.

Remember?

Damned bitter rain.

Who needs these bleak reminders?

[Can I not feel it still

running rivers down my neck,

putting out my fires?

Do I not know how they were set?]

Steaming, biting rain,

Whispering the words that redefined us.

Listen up.

No one gets to redefine us.

I am not an indiscretion.

You are not a quitter.

He hasn’t failed.

She isn’t useless.

We are more than the whispers of a dark September night.