Twelve

collage 15.2

 

When a drop of rain rests a while on a petal,

it gleams in the sunshine as the cat, finishing his daily bath,

stretches out on his belly and purrs into sleep.

When the dew wakes to find itself on a blade of grass,

quickly goes about starting the day, while the wind announces the morning,

pulling shut a bedroom window left open in the night.

When the sky furrows its brow and gathers its comforts,

we say it is heavy, just as a wife scrubbing the carpet

with soap, watches her clothes change colour.

When it finally beats down on tin roofs and pummels

the garden, red or otherwise, into the ground, a young girl

cries in the bathroom, convinced she is dying.

 

– lola

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