She is watching the clouds.
They are ambling until they are overhead,
until the are watching her.
The world is going on, the rain
and the palm trees, and the rain and the earth
and everything.
She is opening the mail and looking away.
The window pane is sharing in this
suffering.
Rain draws the old earth smell from the ground.
Memories put granddaughters to bed
so the wise men can stay up late;
They smoke and decide.
She is writing letters of importance.
Something on the stovetop, seeing her,
They are ambling until they are overhead,
until the are watching her.
The world is going on, the rain
and the palm trees, and the rain and the earth
and everything.
She is opening the mail and looking away.
The window pane is sharing in this
suffering.
Rain draws the old earth smell from the ground.
Memories put granddaughters to bed
so the wise men can stay up late;
They smoke and decide.
She is writing letters of importance.
Something on the stovetop, seeing her,
is committing blackened suicide.
She is lighting a candle,
watching the flame
She is lighting a candle,
watching the flame
she would ask why it sometimes trembles.
Posts
Haven't been keeping up this last week because I FINALLY GOT A JOB, and I have been busy trying to find a room mate for a bedroom in our house. This is from a monsoon season in Tucson. I promise to get back to posting every other day, if not daily.
ReplyDeletecongrats on getting a job! i know it can be hard to write when things are unsettled... i love this poem! each stanza is very alive to me
ReplyDelete