Clay Matthews

Psalm [the rain lets loose]

The rain lets loose
and branches come down in the backyard
like somewhere up in heaven
they’re taking off their arms and legs
and dropping them at the squirrels.
The communion of those who build
their homes on high. Carols play
on the radio and I am warmed
by the glow of fake candles in windows,
the hundred variations of wreaths
on doors. What it basically is, is this:
a prayer to let this be a memory,
to be granted a tomorrow
in the hopes that the present
might become a moment to perform
for, to witness this whole beautiful stage
covered in garland and Christmas lights
with fifth graders dressed up
on risers, antsy and singing and proud.
Moments before I was in a classroom
with my daughter, watching her
draw trees on paper, making cards
for a local charity. To finalize each
she signed them in black, then pulled out
whatever it is I imagine as my heart,
and drew it there right beside her name,
recklessly coloring it in.

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Clay Matthews has published in Arts & Letters, Blackbird, Gulf Coast, The Kenyon Review, The Southern Review and elsewhere. His collections are: Superfecta (Ghost Road Press), Runoff (BlazeVOX Books), Pretty, Rooster, and Shore (Cooper Dillon Books). He resides in Elizabethtown, KY and teaches at Elizabethtown Community and Technical College.