“Acid Rain Epithalamium” by Becca Downs
Editor’s Note: This poem originally appeared on South Broadway Ghost Society on February 27, 2023.
this isn’t the rain we asked for
it runs like lava down leeward
rocks, seizes the cities, it
looks like smoke sizzles
on pavement like hot grease
but might it still wed weeds
to soil might corn still marry
earth & sky in late july could
it still caress valleys soak
hollers dress mountains
in a technicolor coat of wild-
flowers temper flames
that torch the mountainsides
could the children still grow
healthy & tall soft-skinned
& singing to open acrid sky
this isn’t the rain we asked for
but it is the rain we’ve made
love to dropped to one
knee bound ourselves for life
this could be a celebration
windborn praise songs
crawling toward mountaintops
bodies dancing by moonlight
bring your pots to the bonfire
let us boil what drips off eaves-
troughs into our gaping mouths
About Becca Downs
She/They
Becca is a poet, freelance writer, and MFA candidate with the Mile-High MFA program at Regis University in Denver, Colorado. Her work will be published in the upcoming anthology Take The Fruit, Flood The Desert, and has previously been published in Sorry for the Inconvenience: an Anthology of Queer and Trans Voices, Flying Island Magazine, Glass Mountain, Ecletica, Jupiter Review, Heartland Society of Women Writers, genesis, and more. She enjoys hiking, exploring new places, and finding the best donuts wherever she travels.
You can find her on Instagram at @beccad___