The Sky is Bursting with Rainlight

By on Jul 16, 2017 in Poetry

Tennis court at night with a glow


for Angela Humphreys Staley 1965-2016

With sunset comes rain
and the sky glows with it.
The sky is bursting with rainlight,
it sweeps the court of people.
Even the giant moths
circling the overhead lights
hang it up for the night.

And for a while we stand together
against the fence, our fingers
hanging from memories like hooks.
The moon closes
what the sun begins.

On the empty court,
puddles of moon light
and tell me Angela can’t be smiling there
in that light, in that bright,
trembling light, and we won’t
turn the lights off on her,
not tonight, not ever.


Tim Staley was born in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1975. He completed a Poetry MFA from New Mexico State University in 2004. He serves as publisher of Grandma Moses Press. His first full-length poetry collection, Lost On My Own Street, was released by Pski’s Porch Publishing in 2016. His newest chapbook, The Most Honest Syllable Is Shhh, is forthcoming from Night Ballet Press. Journal publications include Border Senses, Canary, Chiron Review, Circumference, Coe Review, RHINO and Sin Fronteras. He lives with his wife and daughter in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Find him online at