living in these high mountains,
i want my rain.

these lofty desert months
become thin in their parchedness.
they take
and pat dry my skin, they hum
in fine grains, suspended—
but the mouth never opens.
instead, it keeps hold the sound

                                                till the months turn
and uncork
their skies—melody loosened and dropping

quickly to the red-dusted pavement.

even as the rain mists and stings
the earth with her own desire,
i crave it.

to be drowning in delight and
still know the aching gap—

Tara Labovich is an editor, creative consultant, and intuitive counsellor. She currently resides in Colorado Springs, where she writes poetry and prose circling around issues of identity, ancestry, queerness, and survivorship. Tara was awarded the first place prize in the Adelaide Bender Reville Prize for Creative Non-Fiction. Her work has been published in journals such as Ink In Thirds, Vita Brevis, Green Briar Review, Cipher, leviathan, and Owl Tree.

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