SCOTLAND’S RAIN, FOUR CHAPTERS

1

It comes in a rush, quick

as a mounted cop in black

swoops down. Overnight,

Scottish blooms alter their attire

for the rain’s affections.

2

Rain falls on the great circus, the doomscape wrought by men.

Rain pelts hard as stones, but can’t wash off

the blood on noble doors. Queen Mary

to the block, pirates, bankers. Today’s punks

relish “art’s” flattery.

3

Elsewhere, the rain’s ferocity,

elsewhere, aimless fury.

4

Night after night I hear it, rustling beside the old seminary,

as if rain were sword, were axe, slaughtering my past.