Thursday, March 13, 2008

Monsoon Season

the way the night air
suddenly turns thick like milk
spoiling, rain everywhere
at once, hot wind in the dark,
water washing warm through
the palm fronds, water creeping
in under the front door,
all the towels soaked, knotted
into fists, pushed against the windows

upstairs, something falls over,
we can't hear our own dialogue
but someone may be singing outside,
we don't know where the dogs went,
one cat crouches next to the stove,
lifting her paws, disgusted by the wet,
your hand on my shoulder,
damp through the cloth,
your mouth near my ear

no one can hear us,
our shoes overflowing with mud,
with roots, the window
in the hall flings open
with a roar

I can't find the edge of your skin
or this wall, but I feel
your lashes against my palm,
wet as grass, close as a wave
knocking me over, taking my breath


jillypoet said...

I can't remember how I found your blog, but I am glad I did. Your writing inspires me daily to be a better poet. Each of your words is full and powerful. I love the sounds and the visuals. I just got The Salt Daughter, and I can't stop reading. The Field Guide to North American Birds, Diary of a Thief and Raised by Wolves are the ones I keep reading. For My Mother, Cooking and Once Upon a Time are just amazing, but hard to read. Sorry to gush. I'm just so psyched to find a contemporary poet who resonates.

Christine said...

Thanks, so much, Jilly. I am unworthy.