Rain Dance,
by Emily Elizabeth Schulten

I would rather dance in the rain like I did
as a girl at summer camp, hop twice

on my right foot, then my left, chant
to the rain warrior, gold-feathered chief,

to heal my brother. It would be easier for me
to find Nonnosus in my Guide to the Saints,

pilgrimage to the closest shrine, lie roses
at the cold stone where his feet are welded,

tell God we deserve a miracle. Or if he could wear—
instead of my kidney— an ancient amulet,

leather strap and scarab-inscribed bone
resting at his throat. Maybe black magic,

take him to a warlock who will mumble a spell
in tongues, smear regeneration circles on his back

with dark oils, lines to count like years,
clearly marked in the broken trunk of his tree.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 3.

Emily Elizabeth Schulten’s poems have appeared Prairie Schooner, New Ohio Review, New Orleans Review, Greensboro Review, Harpur Palate, and othersShe is the author of Rest in Black Haw (New Plains P) and currently serves as an assistant professor at the University of West Georgia.

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