Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Old Poems: Rain

The rain begins again—whispering
to the window pane
The television’s blizzard snaps to a single brilliant point out

A dim green from the street enters the room
melting away the tight tethers around a deep breath
He feels himself unfold, stretch out
taking in the dark objects of the room

Memories come in on the tide
Her face is bright as the sky above them
She stops and, drawing with her free hand
a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth,
she smiles at him
Walking on, side by side around the cold lake

Outside a dog’s incessant barking
ricochets down the street and stops
Step by weary step
his neighbour’s rough soles go up the twist of stairs
and to the door
A child begins to cry, needling through thick walls

He thinks—I could have another cigarette now

Folding back the turned down corner,
he flattens the crease with his finger nail
and begins the chapter again

He reads until twelve, closes the book
and switches off the lights
In the dark he undresses slowly and gets into bed




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