She is thoroughly wet br through & through br br as if a someone br (I don’t know who) br br had upended br a bucket of water br br over her. br br The rain holds br a conversation with itself. br br “Where’s your br new coat? ” br br we incredulously ask her br as she continues br br to drip br at us. br br The rain is laughing br at something it has told itself. br br “A poor woman br hadn’t one...” br br “...so I gave her br mine.” br br She explains br as to a child. br br We her children br stare at her br br Hair plastered br to her skull br br A large drip br at the end of her nose.. br br My mother br could be kind br br in an almost br Biblical New Testament way br br as if she were Jesus Christ br before he had gotten himself crucified br br and was alive and well br and living in her.