A Poem A Day, Poem #11

i can hear her rain
on me with her whispers
of fingers

i can feel the sky streams
dripdropping some melodious
miracles as her hands clutch
deeply--
my hair

and the mayhem left like
mixing milk and flesh is
a crashing so thundered
as to open doors to dreams
after a little drowsy diving
into the deep sex of these
downpours