today she is curled upon her bed
with matching striped cardigan and socks
looking like a small coiled marsupial
unearthed from under something damply fallen
she wakes bewildered and blinking
I sing her a rain song
a favourite Belafonte from Carnegie Hall
we can’t go out it’s raining I say can you hear it?
no she says and closes her eyes
as if the weight of the knowledge of rain is a burden
as if every drop is a bruise
it is raining heavy as horses outside
an admirable drama
inside she feels an inching seeping flood
of brack and ruin
either way from below from above
we are slow drowning
lovely
ReplyDeleteyes it is lovely in the way it moves from the small to the wider picture
ReplyDeleteLovely, yes – and terrifying.
ReplyDeletehow moving!
ReplyDelete