Hard Rains, Yes

There have been hard rains, yes,
thunderstorms when I looked at daddy's immovable face
and shivered in fear, knowing we were outgunned.
There have been boys with hollow cheeks and stiff fingers
who made me sick like ether and laudanum
so that I fell into their arms and lost feeling.
There have been things of effort: poetry in small print,
strings of dates without kisses or kisses without dates,
puppies, lost somehow or another
and leaving me desolate and unwanted.
There have been moments like these
when you could not have convinced me of anything
but the depth of feeling I professed.
But then there have been recollections
and put-back-togethers and softenings.
Then there have been nights.